


Would have stayed if you’d had asked (But instead you just walk away)

by Ideasofmarch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Failwolf, F/M, Humor, Hurt, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Non-Chronological, Please god please don't ask me how the magic works, Precious Peter Parker, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) is a Failwolf, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Cooks, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Leaves the Pack, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles is a Chef, THEY HAVE BROKEN UP, The derek hale/stiles stilinski is PAST, and thats a fact, assume that magic is funky and does whatever it wants, but also fluff, everybody wants to adopt peter parker, hand wavey science and magic, i don't know much about all mythical creatures, i dont know, i screwed with the timeline, lots of fluff, please don't come at me for this, please note this, so much, thank you and good night, wishy washy time line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ideasofmarch/pseuds/Ideasofmarch
Summary: The pack kick Stiles to the curb after deciding he's just not worth the effort it takes to keep him alive. In response, Stiles packs up and moves to Manhattan.What follows is the next decade of Stiles's life and how those who have abandoned him lived to regret it. Including but not limited to: A new pack, a mentor to teach him about his spark, love, the avengers, friendship, and the semi-adopting of one Peter Parker
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Steve Rogers, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 179
Kudos: 819





	1. Give me two damn minutes and I’ll be fine

**Author's Note:**

> Hola,  
> i may or may not have started bindging teen wolf and reading teen wolf fics.  
> this is the result.
> 
> love,  
> IdeasOfMarch

_9 years prior, Beacon hills_

The silence was so pronounced that Stiles could’ve sworn he could hear every heartbeat in the room.

“What?”

He hated the way his voice came out: broken and soft and _weak_. He hated even more how some of their eyes softened, he hated how some of them turned pitying. And he hated worst of all the way Scott’s gaze didn’t falter at all.

“We just think it would be safer for everyone if you weren’t in the pack.”

Stiles frowned, “But –“

“You’re a liability, Stilinski.” Derek cut him off, and the venom laced in his voice was almost enough to have Stiles take an involuntary step backwards, “We can’t keep risking the pack because you’re too weak to fend for yourself.”

For a moment Stiles didn’t feel anything at all. Either that or he felt everything so much that it all just cancelled out. Fear and disbelief, anger and hurt, pain and shock. Too much and too little at the same time. Stiles wanted to scream or cry or laugh until his lungs ran out of oxygen.

Instead he took in one shaky breath and nodded.

“I – okay.”

Someone whimpered, Stiles didn’t – _couldn’t_ – look up to identify who.

Stiles glanced backwards to the door before looking at Scott one last time, “I’ll just… go, then.”

Scott smiled tightly, that same pitying smile he usually sent towards the freshmen who didn’t make the team, “That would be best.”

Stiles walked out of the loft without turning back, even if he could practically feel both alphas gazes burning into his back.

it’s not like he hadn’t seen this coming. The wolves were obvious with their affection, and even more obvious with their dismissal. Lately, the only ones who even bothered to scent mark him anymore were Isaac and Erica, and even then it was only once every few weeks.

Before the entire pack would make sure to be in constant contact with him one way or another. Stiles thought he’d never get used to the constant hugs and cuddles and the breaking into his room through the window. But he had, and he fucking missed it.

Stiles hadn’t pushed, though. Making friends was difficult, keeping them was nigh on impossible for Stiles, so he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise his place in the pack. He’d done everything: he’d researched mythical being after being, cleaned up their messes, tended to their wounds. He’d even slaved away in the kitchen for hours every month, just so that they could eat a home made meal after the fool moon.

And still the pack slipped away. They stopped hugging and laughing with him. They stopped asking him if he was doing okay. They forgot to call him to hang out until they needed information.

Stiles had thought he could at least remain useful but no – no he was nothing more than a liability to them.

Even Derek, who he could have sworn smiled sometimes, just the barest up ticks of his lip, when Stiles told a stupid joke to lighten the mood. Derek, who liked to box him into corners and then stare at him for long moments. Derek _fucking_ Hale, the guy Stiles thought he might actually have something with.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Stiles drove home, grateful for once that his dad had taken a night shift, and went straight to his room. He paused for a moment before digging through his mountains of research for a small silk bag filled to the brim with mountain ash.

He walked over to his window, closed and locked it. Then he took a deep breath before drawing a thin line of mountain ash.

That night Stiles cried himself to sleep, and when he heard soft tapping on his window, he buried his head further into the blankets until it went away.

_Present, Manhattan_

“Stiles!”

Stiles perked up as the bell jingled, alerting everyone in the bakery to their latest customers arrival.

“Joe! What’s up, man?”

Joe, Stiles’s absolute favourite regular and packmate, smiled and shook his head, “Ah, same old same old. Maria got a promotion at the firm, though.”

“Really? Tell her I say congratulations.” Stiles grinned, Maria had been working her ass off to get that promotion. He set a mental reminder to bake her some cupcakes and bring them up later, “You want your regular?”

“Yeah.” Joe nodded, “How’ve you been, kid?”

“Joe, I’m twenty seven.” He deadpanned, reaching down to grab a fresh bagel while he talked.

“Pah! Practically straight out of high school.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Joe and Maria had set eyes on him nine years ago and since then had refused to see him as anything more than a eighteen year old kid. The couple were nearing their fifties and, while Joe was content to retire and spend most of his day hanging out at the bakery, Maria was still the kickass lawyer he’d met almost a decade ago.

“I’m just as good as I was when you asked me last night.”

Joe snorted, “You coming to dinner tonight? We’re celebrating.”

The couple lived upstairs in the apartment block above his bakery.

Stiles nodded, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, and you know how much Nathan loves Maria’s pies. Are Mina and Ben home?”

“Yeah, finally decided to come see their old man. Collage is keeping them far too busy for my liking.“ Joe said, exchanging his tenner for a bagel and a steaming cup of coffee. “Invite the rest of the pack, will ya?”

“Sure thing, Joe.” Stiles watched the man take a seat at the table that had practically become his designated spot before grabbing his phone and opening the group chat.

**_Group chat: ROWOmerOWO Pack_ **

**_me:_ ** _Guess who’s invited to Maria’s for a celebratory dinner tonight??_

 **_Mina_ ** _: Me & benny boy r back in town for the week as well :D_

 **_Gwendolyn:_ ** _She got the promotion?? OMG count me in_

 **_Nate:_ ** _Whoo Hoo!! Is she making pie?_

 **_me:_ ** _yes nathan, there will be pie_

 **_Nate:_ ** _yay!!!!!_

 **_Mikeymouse:_ ** _Jonah and I can make it. See u guys tonight_

 **_Lyds_ ** _: I’m there._

 **_Katieperry:_ ** _I’m so in_

 **_Katieperry:_ ** _so proud of Maria!!!_

 **_Me_ ** _: cool I’ll tell joe we’re all in._

“Yo joe!” Stiles said across the bakery, the man in question raised his eyebrows with a mouthful of bagel, “They can all make it.”

Joe answered back with a delighted thumbs up.

The oven dinged in the back and Stiles made his way over to grab the tray full of fresh bread. Just as he laid the rolls on the counter, Louise, one of the undergrad students he employed, walked in the back door.

“Morning, boss.”

“Hello, Lou. Can you man the front today? _I’ve_ got cupcakes to make.”

Louise nodded, “What’s the occasion?”

“Maria got her promotion.”

“What?! Oh my god, tell her I say congrats.”

He smiled. Everyone living in this corner of the city and their mother knew Maria and Joe, the couple was like the collective grandparents of the entire street. He had no idea how they managed it but Stiles had never once seen either of them misremember a name or a backstory.

Stiles, by virtue of living next to them for the last decade and being their emissary, was closer than most.

“Joe’s eating his bagel.” Stiles said, nodding his head towards the front.

Louise beamed and all but skipped out of the kitchen to go greet the older man.

_9 years prior, Beacon hills_

He was getting out.

At this point stiles just didn’t care. He was two months out from being a legal adult, he had enough credits to graduate early, _and_ he had a place all rented out for him in New York city.

All in all he was just done with this hellmouth of a town.

The pack – _The_ pack, not _his_ pack. Not anymore – had been ignoring him like their life depended on it. Even Isaac, who shot him pathetic little puppy eyes whenever no one else was looking, wouldn’t say a word to him. Derek glared whenever he saw him around town, as if Stiles had meant nothing to him. And Deaton was just as cryptic as ever, though that wasn’t so much new behaviour as it was newly irritating. The man refused to tell him what the hell a ‘spark’ was and none of his research was turning out fruitful.

His only shining light was in the form of one Lydia Martins, the absolute last person he’d expected to stick up for him. And yet.

She hadn’t been there the night they kicked him out, her mother had dragged her out of town for a spa weekend. But the second she got back, when she’d seen the pack shunning Stiles, she’d leapt to his defence. He hadn’t witnessed the verbal beatdown, but from all accounts it was legendary.

She’d even gone so far as to sit with Stiles during their shared lunch period, effectively ostracising herself from both the pack and the popular kids. He almost couldn’t believe that this was the same girl who hadn’t even known his name three years ago.

Luckily for Stiles, both Lydia and his dad were totally down with his plan to get away. Lydia was even planning to come _with_ him.

And Oh! He’d almost forgot to mention, but his relationship with his dad had improved tremendously. No more wolf pack equals no more random bruises equals no more lying about said random bruises; plus Lydia had made the executive decision for the both of them and had brought the sheriff up to date with all things supernatural.

The sheriff took it all surprisingly well. Like it was almost worrying how well his dad took to the supernatural, Stiles was more weirded out by his dads reaction to the truth than the truth itself.

“Honestly, kid.” John had said, “I’m just glad you’re not involved in a drug ring.”

“ _That’s_ what you thought?” Stiles frowned, incredulous.

“Don’t look at me like that, it makes total sense.”

Then John pressed a sandwich into his hands and shoved him out the door, and that was the end of that conversation.

Stiles hadn’t even bothered to try and convince his dad to come with him. Despite everything, John Stilinski loved Beacon hills and he’d defend this town until his dying days. The best he’d managed to do was get him to promise to visit them in Manhattan.

Stiles and Lydia had decided on Manhattan mostly because it was as far away from Beacon hills as they could go without leaving the country. And also because Lydia was gunning for an internship, and one day a job, at Stark industries – Stiles was just totally cool with being _that_ _close_ to the avengers.

Three days ago they’d gone to the principle and graduated together, now Stiles was shoving the last of his bags into Roscoe. It was early, barely even six in the morning and the sun was just coming up. His dad was inside, making the both of them coffee before he took off to pick up Lydia and drive them to the airport.

He kicked the door shut the moment he’d secured all his stuff.

For a moment Stiles just stood in the driveway he’d walked up all his life, taking in the calm, almost serene atmosphere. Of course, life in Beacon hills was rarely, if ever, serene – but it did paint a pretty picture. If everything went according to plan, he’d never see this place again.

Stiles was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the angry alpha storming towards him until a hand slammed onto the hood of his car.

“You’re _leaving_?!”

Stiles blinked at Derek before slowly raising one eyebrow, “What do you care?”

Derek growled, “You can’t _leave_.”

Stiles used to love how much taller Derek was than him, he used to love how effectively the older man could box him in. Now he just scowled up at the wolf, violently ripping his wrist out from where Derek had grasped it.

“Literally fuck off, dude. You’re not my alpha, you’re not my _anything_ .”

Then Derek had the fucking gall to flinch like he was the victim in this situation, and Stiles just lost it.

“ _No_. you don’t get to show up at my house after _three_ _months_ of glaring and radio silence. You don’t get to look at me like _I_ betrayed _you_ , not when we both know it’s the other way around.” Stiles pressed his palms into Derek’s shoulders and pushed, it was only because he wasn’t expecting it that Derek stumbled back a step, “Yes, I am leaving. And, If I have anything to say about it, you will never see me again. I certainly don’t want to see _you_ ever again. So you go back to _your_ pack and fucking stay there like a good fucking bitch.”

Derek opened his mouth – to argue? Apologise? – stiles didn’t care.

“I don’t want to hear it, Derek. Leave. _Now_.”

And then he watched as the Alpha retreated with his tail between his legs. Derek glanced back, once, and Stiles forced his face to remain impassive.

“You okay, Stiles?” He turned at the sound of his fathers voice. The man in question was leaning against the door frame, two steaming hot cups of coffee in hand.

He took a deep breath before nodding, “I will be.”

The sheriff walked towards him, handing him his mug before sitting next to him on Roscoe’s hood.

“I’m going to miss you so much.”

Stiles took a sip.

“I love you, son.”

“yeah," he chocked out, "yeah i love you too, dad."

_Present, Manhattan_

“Nathan! Put on your _fucking_ pants, we’re going to be late!”

“We live next doors, how could we possibly be late?!”

Stiles sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes as he watched his husband jump up and down trying to put on his pants.

“I swear to god, I married a toddler.” Stiles raised a hand, and said a quick Gaelic spell that had the skinny jeans flying up Nathan's legs.

Said toddler just grinned, “Thanks babe.”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s _go_.” Stiles groaned, grabbing the container full of cupcakes while he simultaneously shoving his husband out the door. If Nathan wanted to, he could root himself to the floor and refuse to move no matter how hard Stiles pushed – perks of werewolf strength. But Nathan just liked messing with him, so he allowed himself to be manhandled.

The walk to Maria and Joe’s place took a grand total of thirty seconds and the door swung open the moment they knocked.

“Congratulations!” Stiles and Nathan said in unison when Maria opened the door.

“Oh, thank you, boys! Come in, come in. Everyone else is inside.”

Stiles shot Nathan a look that translated to: “See? What did I tell you? Idiot.”. He received a sheepish smile in response.

Gwen, Mike, and Lydia were sitting on the couch, all three of them entranced by one of Joe’s epic stories. Mina and Ben were present as well, lounging at their fathers feet. Nathan gave stiles a peck on the cheek before rushing over to join them. It was a well known fact that Joe had been through some shit, and hence told the _best_ tales.

Stiles waved at them all before following Maria into the kitchen, where Katie and Jonah had both already been put to work making pastries.

“I see you’ve taken care of dessert, Stiles?” Maria said.

“Yep. Strawberry with a hint of coffee, just the way you like it.”

“You’re too sweet.” She came forward to pinch his cheeks, laughing as he dodged.

Katie bumped her hip against his as he settled next to her and began to fold minced meat into the dough she’d just sliced.

“How was work?”

Stiles hummed in response, “Alright, I guess. Remember that kid, Peter?”

“The precious little puppy you keep mentioning?” Jonah asked over his shoulder.

“That’s the one.” Stiles sighed, “Yeah, he swung by again. I’m worried about him.”

Katies brows furrowed, “Why?” 

“He’s so skinny!” Stiles whined. “I keep giving him extra portions but it’s not helping at all.”

Peter was quickly becoming one of Stiles’s favourite regulars. Second only to Joe and Maria. The kid had started popping into his bakery about three months ago. He always ordered a lunch set, in which Stiles put almost triple the usual amount of food, and three cups of coffee to go.

Stiles knew that the kid wasn’t eating enough, if the way he easily scarfed down three peoples worth of food was anything to go by, but he had no idea what else he could do. It’s not like he even knew who Peter’s parents were, or if he even _had_ parents.

“When does he usually come around?” Maria asked.

“’round 3 o’clock every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow then.” She nodded, “My boss gave me the weekend off.”

Stiles breathed out in relief. If anyone could help Peter without coming off as creepy it was Maria. She just had that kind of vibe to her; Maria could probably steal someones watch in broad daylight by simply asking for it and walking away.

“Anyway,” He said, “How was your days? Katie, Jonah. Any trouble at the zoo?”

“Nah.” Jonah smiled, “We got a new exhibit, though. Katie and I got banned from working with them, apparently we set the new guys off.”

“Oh?” Stiles asked. “What’s the exhibit?”

“wolves.”

The three of them broke into snickers until Maria wacked them each over the head with a wooden spoon.

“focus.” She scolded, flashing her red eyes.

They immediately settled down. Stiles himself wasn’t a werewolf, but he’d been fully accepted into Maria’s pack so he felt the command just as strongly as Katie and Jonah.

“yes, alpha.” They coursed and she smiled at them, satisfied, before turning back to the pasta sauce she was making.

The rest of dinner passed easily. Stiles spent most of his time halfway onto Nathan's lap, which nobody commented on for the fact that Gwen was practically draped across Jonah and Katie was snuggled into Mike’s side. Maria shook her head at her pack before sitting herself primly onto her husband’s lap.

It had been a while since the whole pack had gathered, what with both Mina and Ben off at collage and Lydia off on business, so everyone was soaking up the feeling of having the pack bonds so strong for the first time in months.

It was nice.

_9 years prior, Manhattan_

“Who are you?”

Stiles blinked up at the lady asking the question. She was tall, definitely 6 feet at least, with kind but stern features. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant bun at her nape and she was dressed in a killer pantsuit. Stiles had the strangest urge to bare his neck in deference.

“Um, I’m Stiles.” He gestured to the open door behind him. Lydia poked her head out the door and Stiles could practically see her checking out the woman’s outfit, “This is Lydia. We’re just moving in.”

The lady sniffed delicately, “You two positively _reek_ of magic.”

“Excuse me?” Lydia said at the exact same time stiles said: “Wait, Seriously?”

She nodded, “Under whom were you trained?”

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other, then back to her, before Stiles hesitantly asked, “Um, Trained?”

Now the women looked downright incredulous, “You’ve not been trained? What are you both, sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Eighteen, ma’am.” Lydia said.

“Eighteen! _Dios mío_ , put those boxes down and follow me.” They both immediately complied, though neither could identify why exactly they followed her orders so easily, “My name is Maria, by the way. I am the alpha of the Romero pack.”

The two teens silently followed Maria up three flights of stairs before she knocked on one of the doors.

“Maria?” a woman swung open the door, looking like the archetype for one of those new magic practitioners, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong exactly, Gina.” Maria waved a hand at Stiles and Lydia, “These two, though, have received no training.”

Gina’s brows pinched together, “Oh dear. Do you two know what you are?”

“I’m a banshee,” Lydia said, “He’s something called a Spark.”

“A spark _and_ a banshee!” Gina gasped in surprise, “with no formal training at all?”

“Uh no.” Stiles frowned.

“Come in, then. You’re in luck, children. I’m a spark myself, I’d be happy to mentor you,” She smiled at Stiles, “And you, banshee, I have a few friends who can help you.”

The main area of the apartment was best described as a grown up version of a blanket fort. Every surface available was covered in what was almost definitely homemade crochet blankets and throws. Anywhere that _wasn’t_ layered in yarn had a healthy dosage of candles in its place. Gina also had a fluffy couch and a TV that looked at least a decade out of date.

The kitchen, though, is the part that really caught stiles eye. It was really the only part that was spared the blanket draping, and it was absolutely beautiful. Even from just glancing Stiles could see that Gina’s kitchen was well equipped and spacious as hell compared to the rest of the place.

Stiles had always enjoyed cooking, whether it was healthy dishes that he had to be real creative about in order to get his dad to even try or the meaty dinners he used to put out after every full moon. That memory was a bit sour now, what with them being kicked out and leaving the pack respectively, but Stiles wasn’t going to quit making anything he loved because of _them_.

While Stiles salivated over the thought of using that state of the art oven, Lydia grimaced slightly at the bright colours and strong scents.

“What are your names?” Gina pointed them towards her couch, “And, are you two in school currently?”

Lydia nodded, “Lydia, and I’m enrolled in the mathematics course at NYU.”

“Oh that’s just perfect!” Gina whooped, “My friend Doreen, she’s doing her masters in physics right now. I’ll connect you and she’ll teach you everything you need to know. Doreen was _just_ telling me how much she’d like to mentor a fellow banshee.”

“I’m taking a gap year.” Stiles said when Gina looked at him pointedly. “Oh and my name is Stiles.”

“Lovely, I’ll expect you here 8 am tomorrow morning. And I’m warning you now: Spark training is very demanding.”

Stiles saluted her with a grin, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Soda or water?” Gina asked and, when they all answered water, waved her hand in the direction of the kitchen. A minute later four glasses of iced water floated into each of their hands. “Now, would you two mind telling me how you’ve received no training and yet know exactly what you are?”

“Why are you both so surprised that we’ve had no training?” Stiles said.

Gina sipped her water, “Well, it’s quite unusual to get as old as you both are without having had a mentor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually your untrained magic would have drawn a mentor to _you_. My own mentor had the sudden inspiration to fly from Toronto to New York on the night of my fourteenth birthday. But I suppose it’s the other way for you two, hmm? Moving into this building, that just happened to house the only spark in the New York, and one with direct ties to a banshee no less.”

Huh, thought stiles, _huh_.

“And it’s just that,” Gina continued, “Ones such as yourself, who reach the end of their adolescence without training, their magic tends to be, how do I day this: frayed – almost? its like the magical equivalent of an omega wolf. You are both very, very luck to have come here when you did. One year more and you’d probably had to have had both your magics sealed to prevent you going mad.”

Lydia and Stiles both looked at Gina in alarm. She laughed.

“Not to worry, there’s plenty of time for you to learn. Your magics not even _begun_ to fray yet.”

“So,” Maria said, noticing easily how uncomfortable the two teens looked, “How do you know what you are?”

Lydia shifted in her seat, “We come from a small town in California, it’s called Beacon hills. We used to, um, well we used to be in a pack.”

Maria raised an eyebrow, “Used to?”

“They kicked me out.” Stiles said, almost a whisper, “Said I was a liability. Lydia left the pack when she found out.”

Maria gasped, “They knew you were a spark and _still_ thought you were a liability?”

“Ah, No. They didn’t know. I was told by the pack emissary, he was a druid.”

“Why didn’t _he_ mentor you?” Gina asked.

“Deaton is a shifty guy, never gave me a straight answer when I asked about the spark.”

Gina made a vague noise of disapproval, “Well, no matter. You’re with us now. Lydia, here.” Gina handed Lydia a strip of paper with a phone number jotted down, “Call her soon, she’s excited to meet you.”

“Thank you.” She said, and Stiles had never seen Lydia so excited.

Maria ushered them out the door and walked them both back downstairs, explaining the state of the supernatural affairs the whole way.

Apparently there were three other werewolf packs in Manhattan, but all of them were allies and met up regularly to enforce positive inter-pack relations. The apartment building they’d moved into was about three quarters supernatural – and the mundane population was mostly clued in on their neighbours secrets at that.

Stiles and Lydia listened to the Alpha explain all of this with wide eyes. Here was a plethora of supernatural creatures all peacefully living under one roof, something they’d never have believed possible from their experiences in Beacon hills.

There was a succubus and incubus couple living three doors down from them, both of whom were totally happy to seduce each other into bed instead of unsuspecting humans. A group of Dökkálfar (Norse dark elves, Maria explained) were renting a huge studio apartment four floors up, they apparently had a long standing semi-friendly rivalry with the Ljósálfar (light elves, also Norse, Maria promised to lend Stiles her bestiary later) that lived next door.

A Seelie and her human girlfriend were living one floor above them, apparently just for the next few decades, though, before they migrated to the elf court.

“Oh!” Maria said when they reached Stiles and Lydia’s apartment, “You will join us for dinner tonight?”

Stiles and Lydia nodded at the same time.

Maria beamed and pointed at a door painted bright yellow, “Perfect, we’re right over here. Dinner is at eight.”

_Present, Manhattan_

“Mr Parker, I presume.” Maria slid into the spare seat at the boy’s table without waiting for an answer.

Stiles hid his giggles behind his palm as he watched Peter fidget nervously in his seat, swallowing the bacon in his mouth so he could say: “Um, yes ma’am. That’s me. Peter Parker at your service.”

Maria smiled, “Stiles was right, you are adorable.”

Peter blushed, “He – Mr. Stilinski said what?”

“Oh my god, kid.” Stiles called across the bakery, “It’s Stiles, please. I’m like ten years older than you.”

“Sorry Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles groaned.

“Peter,” Maria said and Peter focused his attention back on her, “It has come to my attention that you’re not eating enough food.”

“What?” He blinked, “Yes I am.”

“I just watched you eat enough food to feed a family of four and I can _still_ hear your stomach growling.”

“That was just the lunch set!” Peter set his wide eyes on Stiles.

Now it was Stiles’s turn to blush, “Sorry kid, I’ve kinda been giving you a little extra.”

“Mr. Stilinski! How much extra?” The poor kid looked horrified.

“Peter, it’s fine.” Stiles waved his hand at him, “I make enough that I can spare some extra bacon.”

“I’m not that hungry ma’am. I just –“ Peter said.

“Maria.”

“Maria,” He corrected himself, Stiles frowned – how come Maria got first name privileges?, ”I just don’t really eat at school.”

“Don’t lie to me young man.”

“I’m not –“

“I can hear the uptick in your heart.”

“What?”

“And I also know you aren’t completely human.”

This time Stiles and Peter yelped at the same time, “ _What_?!”

Maria tilted her head, taking one long sniff of the air, “Chemicals, cologne and… you smell like spiderwebs.”

“What the fuck.” Peter whispered, less of a question than a statement, then he blushed as his words registered.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles said, “If I’m understanding this correctly – and I really, really hope I’m not. Your saying that Peter is… part spider?”

Thank god nobody else was currently in the bakery.

Maria frowned, “Yes, the scent of it is in his skin.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles whispered, then louder, “ _Oh my god_. You’re that spider guy from YouTube.”

“What? No – that’s not –“

“Peter you caught a _bus_ –“

“Mr Stilinski –“

“You’re like twelve what the fu-“

“Hey! I’m _seventeen_.”

Stiles laughed, only slightly hysterically, “Peter that is _so_ not the point.”

“How the heck did you even figure it out by smelling me?” Peter slumped back into his chair, resigned to having to explain his spidermaning.

Stiles raised his eyebrow at Maria, she nodded once.

“Maria’s a werewolf, my Alpha.”

“What?!”

“And _I_ am a spark – wait, you don’t know what that is. I’m like, I don’t know, a wizard but cooler. Actual wizards kind of suck.”

Peters mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish, “There are _actual_ wizards?”

“Yeah, but they’re super uptight. Always going on and on and _on_ about rules and forbidden knowledge and –“

“Stiles.” Maria cut him off with a fond smirk, he stopped talking and gave peter a sheepish smile.

“Anyway,” Stiles said, “you’re the spider dude?”

“I think the fact that werewolves are real is more important.” Peter pointed out.

“Long story short: every supernatural creature ever is probably real. Now, why the hell are you fighting crime?”

Peter blinked, “I’m helping people.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “But you’re doing it on an empty stomach with no back up. What the hell are you planning to do if you get shot or stabbed or something?”

“I have back up.” The kid mumbled.

“Who?”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark? As in Tony Stark? Iron man? The same man who is currently in China?”

Peter frowned, “Why do you know he’s in China?”

“My friend Mike is a big fan.” Maria huffed a laugh, her and Stiles both knew that Mike was the closest thing you could get to a stalker without actually being one. “Point is: The man is in China, how is he supposed to help you from there?”

“Wait,” Peter paused, “You don’t want to stop me.”

Stiles snorted and shook his head, “I was just like you at your age. Nothing I say or do is going to stop you going out there. But I can at least make sure you eat enough food so you don’t pass out in the middle of a fight.”

Maria fished around in her purse before pulling out a memo pad.

“Here Peter, this is both mine and Stiles’s number. You will call us if you need back up, my pack will come.” Maria shot Stiles an amused look, “The entire pack is quite endeared to you already.”

“huh?”

“Stiles has been gushing about you for weeks.”

“He has?” Peter said at the same time Stiles said: “ _Maria_.”

“Oh yes, his husband is this close to contacting adoption agencies at this point.”

Stiles sighed, it wasn’t just Nathan who wanted to adopt Peter, the whole damn pack was highly invested in this childs wellbeing thanks to his big mouth, “Maria, we don’t know the kids situation.”

“I have an aunt.” Peter said.

“I’d like to meet her.” Maria said.

“No! she doesn’t know about – about anything!”

Stiles shrugged, he knew the feeling of wanting to keep your loved ones out of whatever danger you were meddling in, but Maria frowned.

“That won’t do.”

“What – but –“

“Peter,” She said, “You cannot hide things like this from the people you love.”

The boy practically deflated in front of them, “I’m just trying to keep her safe.”

“Damn,” Stiles said, “You really are just like me. I hid my powers from my dad for the exact same reason, trust me dude, it doesn’t work out. The people targeting you will get to them anyway and they’ll be worse off than if you prepared them for the possibility.”

“Bring her with you next Saturday.” Maria insisted, “We will help break the news.”

“I – okay.” Peter sighed.

“Great.” Stiles clapped his hands together, “Next order of business. How much do you need to eat?”

He shook his head slightly, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, so three portions obviously isn’t enough. That’s what I usually give the wolves, anyway. Are you like semi-full or still starving?”

Peter hesitated for all of a second before he answered, “Starving.”

“Right I’m doubling it. And I’m packing you something for dinner. God, you need breakfast too. Where do you live anyway?”

“Um Queens. Why?’

“Shit, Queens? What the hell are you doing in Manhattan so often?”

“I have an internship as SI.”

“No shit?” Stiles blinked, “Do you, per chance, know my friend Lydia?”

“Martin?”

“Yes!”

“Of course I know her, everyone knows her.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles said again, for the millionth time that day, “you’re _the_ kid.”

“Huh?”

“Maria, he’s the kid Lydia’s been telling us about. The one that works with Tony Stark.”

Maria laughed, “Of course you two would semi-adopt the same child.”

“I’m so confused right now.” Peter mumbled.

Stiles nodded, “That makes two of us kid. Can you make it down here every day?”

Peter shrugged, “I mean, sure. I’ll just swing down as spider-man now that you know.”

“Spider-man?” Maria asked.

“Uh – yeah. That’s what I’ve been calling myself.”

“Cool.” Stiles said, “See you tomorrow then kid.”

_9 years prior, Manhattan_

“What?”

Gina smirked at his confused expression, “We’re making cupcakes.”

“My first lesson…” He said, “is cupcakes?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you drooling over my kitchen yesterday.”

“I mean, it’s beautiful.” Stiles opened his arms in a sweeping motion to emphasize his point, “But how does this help train my spark?”

Gina grinned, “Oh, did I forget to mention? No hands.”

Stiles yelped, “What?”

“A spark is not like any other kind of magic, Stiles. We can dabble in anything and everything, our only limit is ourselves. Now, I could teach you spells and enchantments and all that other boring stuff – _or,_ I could teach you to shape your energy to your will.”

“Just to be clear – I _could_ dabble in potions and spells?”

“Of course, some things are even easier with a little bit more direction. But you learn to do without first. This way you never become reliant on words or ingredients.”

Stiles gulped, “Right… let’s do this then.”

-

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, right before the entire bag of flour exploded over both their heads.

“ _Stiles_!”

-

“This is going better than last time.”

He said, then proceeded to launch the bowl he was stirring out the window.

“Hey!” A man shouted from the streets, “I’m _walkin’_ here!”

-

“Maybe we should try bread.” Gina frowned, hair covered in icing and chocolate chips.

Stiles gave her a sheepish grin.

-

Stiles and Gina sat on her fluffy couch, each working their way through a couple of slices of freshly baked bread.

“Your so good at this when you don’t use magic.” She commented.

-

“Fuck fuck fuckity _fuck_!”

In the end, Stiles figured out how to magic an oven back together before he managed to make magical toast.

-

“You did it.” Gina said, eyes wide as saucers.

“Holy shit I did it.”

Sat on the counter was a perfectly baked loaf of bread, made entirely by Stiles force of will.

“And it only took,” Stiles looked up and took a peak at the tally board they’d started three weeks ago, “68 attempts.” He paused, “Hey Gina?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna throw this loaf out and go for one more attempt?”

“What? why?”

Stiles did his best impression of an innocent boy, “No reason.”

Gina snorted, “Nice try kid, we’re officially moving back to cupcakes.”

“Ugh.”

_8 years prior, Manhattan_

“Really?” Lydia asked.

Maria smiled, “Really. You’ve both improved tremendously under your mentors, and my family and I have grown quite fond of you in the meantime.”

“What if they don’t like us?” Stiles said, “I mean, our last pack kicked me out.”

“They’ll love you. Mina and Ben already do. And my children don’t know how to keep their mouths shut, so do expect them to already know quite a bit about you.”

Stiles blew out a breath, “Okay, okay we’ll come.”

“Lovely.” And with that, Maria walked out of their apartment, kicking the door closed behind her.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, Lyds.”

“It’ll be fine,”

“I hope so.”

-

Turns out everything _was_ fine. More than fine actually. Stiles and Lydia got on with the Romero pack like a house on fire.

Maria had dragged the lot of them to the Fresh Creek nature preserve at the early hour of six in the morning, where the rest of the pack was set to meet them. Mina and ben, 13 and 11 years old respectively, were bouncing about with all the energy of excited puppies – which, technically, they were. Joe trailed behind his kids, nursing a strong cup of black coffee and some killer eyebags.

Stiles and Lydia walked just in front of Maria, who brought up the rear end of their entourage.

They walked for a good half hour, not following any known trail, before coming across a clearing where five other people were busy stretching.

“Good morning.” Maria called as they walked up to the group.

“Maria!” One of the girls chirped, “Good Morning!”

“Everybody, I would like to introduce Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski.”

The clearing was quiet for a moment, then:

“Hello!”

“What do you do?”

“Where do you work?”

“Are you students?”

“I’m Katie!”

Lydia and Stiles blinked in surprise, before turning to Maria for a quick run down of who was who.

“This is Gwen,” She said, pointing at a blonde girl in camo sweat pants, “She’s half-Vila.”

Stiles tilted his head, “Like in Harry potter?”

Gwen laughed and rolled her eyes, obviously used to getting _that_ question, “Vila not Veela. My mother was a spirit of the wind.”

He nodded, “Cool.”

“That’s Mike, he and Gwen are dating. He’s my beta and second in command.”

Mike gave them a ‘sup’ nod of his head.

“This is Jonah and Katie, also dating, both of them are werewolves.”

The couple waved enthusiastically.

“And finally, we have Nathan. He was just bitten three moons ago.”

“Uh… hi.” The man awkwardly waved, rubbing a tan hand through a nest of curls on his head, Stiles was instantly endeared.

Though it was near impossible to talk to the pack for the first two hours – running at a frankly ridiculous pace through an uneven terrain made sure of that – Lydia managed to have a nice chat with Gwen who, despite her wind powers, did not have superhuman speed. Gwen was into aerospace engineering and Lydia couldn’t help but be delighted at the thought of having someone to talk to who actually understood advanced physics.

Stiles paced a little bit ahead of them, mostly keeping in time with the kids. Both Mina and Ben were born wolves, so they’re powers were coming in waves, right now superspeed was not on the cards, though Mina was getting faster every week.

After the muscle melting exercise routine Maria put everyone through, the pack all piled into two cars and drove back to the apartment complex for a late breakfast.

Stiles got stuffed in with Joe, Mina, Jonah, Katie, and Nathan. The car was only a four seater and while Katie didn’t mind sitting on Jonah’s lap, both Nathan and Stills were beetroot red by the time the apartment building came into sight. Not that Stiles thought sitting in the lap of a pretty werewolf was a hardship or anything, but Katie and Mina’s not so subtle sniggers made Stiles flush even more than he already was.

When the car rolled to a stop, Nathan opened the door and got out, effectively lifting and carrying Stiles out of the car before gently placing him on the floor.

Stiles grinned at the taller man, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Nathan smiled back before heading off to where Maria had just pulled up. Stiles watched him for a moment before making his way over as well.

“Hey Stiles, check it out.” Lydia nudged him when he came close enough, “Libby’s Pizza’s moving locations.”

Stiles eyed the soon-to-be vacant lot. Libby’s had been there since long before Stiles and Lydia moved in. It had actually been the reason they’d decided to rent an apartment here and not three blocks down. Stiles had been very excited to have a pizza place right underneath their apartment.

But now Libby was moving out.

“Hey,” Stiles called to the group, “You guys go on up, I just want to check something out.”

The pack nodded their agreement and rushed to be the first into the elevator, the four left outside (Mike, Ben, Katie, and Nathan) pouted before starting up the stairs. Stiles muffled his laughter behind his palm.

“Libby?” Stiles asked, “You in here?”

“Stilinski!” A voice came from the back, “What’s up?”

Libby was a thirty year old, rock and roll, pizza selling badass and Stiles wanted to be her when he grew up. Right now she had on a faded Metallica shirt that was stained heavily with all sorts of food stuff and had her purple hair stuffed into a messy ponytail.

“Since when are you relocating?”

Libby bounced on the heels of her feet, “Kid, you won’t believe this but I got an offer to start up business down in L.A, three whole stores!”

“Holy shit, Libs! Congratulations!” He rushed forward to grab her in a hug, “But I can’t believe you’re _leaving_. Ugh, now some rando is going to move in down here.”

“Aw come on kid, it won’t be that bad.”

“It won’t be the same.”

Libby rolled her eyes at Stiles’s dramatic delivery, then her eyes lit up. “You like to cook, don’t ya kid?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said, “Love it.”

“Then why don’t you take the store.”

“What?!”

“Turn it into a diner, or a bakery. Whatever you want.”

“Libby, I haven't even gone to college yet.”

“Stiles,” She said, “you’ve got talent, I’ve tasted your dishes.”

“I can’t pay the bills, I’m only working part time right now.”

“Hey, I’ve still got four months on the contract. I was gonna use it to find a buyer but, eh. You use it to set up, start making money. You can pay me back over time.”

And then Stiles was hugging her again, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

_7 years prior, Beacon Hills_

“Face it, Derek.” Jackson says through gritted teeth, “We need to contact Stilinski.”

The pack was gathered in the loft, all of them a little worse for wear. Scott was leaning against Isaac on the couch, both alpha and beta knocked out, as they had been for the past three hours. Cora was clutching her stomach, where blood continued to pour even as her body stitched itself back together.

Jackson was all but healed, but the blood from the cuts on his face had not been washed off.

“He left.” Derek all but growled, “We can’t –“

“He didn’t _leave_.” Erica spat from her place in Boyd’s arms, “You and Scott kicked him out.”

Derek flashed his eyes at her and she settled back down with a glare. The alpha surveyed his pack – with Scott out of commission for the moment, he was their sole leader – they were really just a bunch of teenagers. Even if most of them had celebrated their twentieth birthdays this year, none of them had matured much.

“Even if we wanted to contact him,” he says, “We have no idea where he is or how to get in touch with him.”

Jackson scoffed, “The sheriff will obviously know where he went.”

“He wouldn’t tell us two years ago,” Boyd said slowly, “Why would he give up that information now?”

“Because people are _dying_?” Jackson drawled.

“That’s the excuse we used the first time. The Sheriff won’t betray Stiles.”

“I’m sorry.” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are you telling me this has happened _before_? Oh god, I should have stayed in London. Why did I choose now – of all times – to come back?”

Derek growled, “If you don’t want to be here –“

“I _don’t_!” Jackson let out a breathless laugh, “Fuck, this town is a disaster and the _only_ reason it didn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean years ago is Stiles – _fucking_ – Stilinski. And you – you kicked him out? You kicked out the guy who knows more about the supernatural than a _born_ _werewolf_? Oh my god – we’re all going to die.”

Derek didn’t answer beyond a snarl and a glare. Because truth be told, Jackson was _right_. Stiles had managed to be the most useful of his betas, and he wasn’t even a wolf. Ever since he’d left – no, since _they’d_ sent him away – there had been a notable difference in the pack.

No more strategy sessions, no master plans that somehow kept them all mostly intact on the field. There was no one to forcibly drag their minds out of the doom and gloom with his cheerful jokes at the most inappropriate times. No one making them breakfast after the full moon or nagging them to clean out their injuries despite the fact that they’d be healed within the hour.

Frankly, everything was just depressing without him.

In the three years since that dreaded decision, every reason they’d had for it was whittled away. It all seemed so stupid now, so pointless to have lost their most valuable member over what was essentially nothing. Derek could see now that all those times he’d been underfoot, those times Stiles wouldn’t leave no matter how much it put him at risk, those times were probably the reason most of them were even alive.

“Enough.” Derek said, because talking about Stiles made something deep in his chest ache. “The sheriff’s not going to tell us anything and I doubt Stilinski would come back just because we asked.”

“Fine,” Jackson’s features twisted into a grimace, “Fine. But will somebody just tell me where Lydia is.”

The pack was silent.

“So help me god,” Jackson seethed, “You kicked out Lydia too? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you people?”

“We didn’t kick her out.” Erika said.

“She’s – she’s dead?”

Erika frowned. “What? _No_. She left with Stiles.”

He sighed in relief, “Fucking lead with that next time.”

“Can we try to focus on the wendigo troupe currently ravaging the town?” Derek said and tried not to think of hazel eyes staring at him in betrayal.

_6 years prior, Manhattan_

“Lydia!” Stiles called as he practically barged into their apartment.

She almost fell out of her chair at the tone, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Stiles grinned, “Nathan asked me out.”

“What? Oh my god when’s the date?” She gasped, “ _Where’s_ the date?”

“This Sunday, we’re going to go see the new batman movie.”

“I can’t believe this is finally happening!”

“What do you mean?” Stiles frowned.

“God you two are such idiots.” Lydia rolled her eyes, “You’ve been dancing around each other for years.”

“We have not!”

“The first time we met him you sat in his lap and he couldn’t keep his hands off your waist.”

Stiles huffed, “Circumstantial.”

“Three days ago I watched you feed each other bites of the cake you were sharing.”

“I don’t think –“

“Or, what about that time we went dancing and you two spent the entire night grinding on each other.”

“I was drunk.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Hey!”

“What about that time you passed out after a pack day and he carried you to bed.”

“Ok, Lyds! I get it.”

“Do you?” She asked, “Because you casually refer to each other with pet names. You called him ‘babe’ yesterday. I need you to realise that you to have been dating for the past two years, you’re just the last to realise it.”

“Damn,” Stiles said after a moment, “I hate it when your right.”

“Liar.”

Stiles made a hasty retreat with what was left of his dignity intact, Lydia’s laughter followed him all the way to his room.

_5 years prior, Manhattan._

Holy shit, thought Stiles, Holy shit.

Truth be told, Stiles had seen some weird shit in his short life, so for something to surprise him, well…

“Watch out kid!” Captain America – _captain America!_ – called as he ran past Stiles and flung his shield at an alien.

Stiles took a deep breath.

“This,” He picked up the baseball bat he kept in the back of the bakery – for, you know? Just in case, “Is the best day of my life.”

And then he ran into the streets, swinging his bat with all his might and adding a little something extra with his spark. The alien crumpled under the force. Huh, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought.

From the corner of his eye Stiles could see as flustered Captain America try and usher civilians, all of which were wielding some type of make shift weapon and taking down aliens, while Iron man hovered in the background.

Was it possible to hover in an amused fashion? Because if so then that was exactly with Iron man was doing.

Stiles didn’t have time to ponder the question further as three aliens rushed him and he was forced to duck out of the way.

_4 years prior, Beacon Hills_

“Should we…”

Derek growled, “We are _not_ calling Stilinski in.”

_Present, Manhattan_

“Hello,” Stiles chirped, “You must be Peter’s aunt.”

Peter’s aunt nodded slowly, looking at Stiles with one eyebrow raised.

“I am. How do you know my nephew?”

“Oh,” he waved away her suspicion, “The kids a regular here, I chat with all my regulars.”

“Alright…”

“Can I get you anything, Mrs Parker?” Stiles shot Peter a smile, “You want the regular?”

Peter nodded a moment before his aunt ordered a latte and a chicken pie.

He smiled, “I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

Stiles let them get settled at Peters usual place while he fetched the food. Lucky for Mrs. Parker, he’d just finished cooking the chicken pies. Stiles concentrated on readying the pies while he allowed his spark to put Peter’s lunch together – six portions.

The kid was looking a lot better lately, less shaky and more alert, so it seemed like six portions was the right serving size for the spider baby with superhuman metabolism.

Mrs. Parker looked up when Stiles walked round the counter with her pie, “That smells amazing!”

“Thank you,” He laughed, “fresh out of the oven.”

She looked less pleased when he came around with two giant plates of food balanced precariously on his arms. Peter blushed when he saw her wide eyes.

“Um.” She said.

Stiles powered through her shock with a cheerful grin, “And here is the lunch set.”

“That can’t be –“

“Peter.” Maria interrupted, walking through the door and opening her arms for a hug. The kid leapt out of his seat and into her arms before he really registered doing it. Stiles laughed, Maria had that effect on people.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mrs. Parker asked.

Maria smiled at her, “Your nephew has some news he needs to share with you. I am here to answer the questions you might have.”

“Okay…” She said slowly, “Peter? What is it?”

“I – I –“

Stiles patted his shoulder, “It’s okay, kid. Just tell her.”

“I’m spider-man.”

“ _What_?!”

3 years prior, Manhattan

“We should get a dog.” Stiles said, he was draped across Nathan on the couch, something mindless and boring droned on the TV, neither seemed inclined to move.

Nathan huffed a laugh, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god. Is this a wolf thing? Do you not want another canine in your territory?”

“What? No!” Nathan flushed.

“It totally is!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is t – mph.”

Neither could continue arguing, seeing as their lips were too busy being sealed together.

-

“I’m moving out.”

“What?” Nathan and Stiles said at the same time. Lydia was stood there with her hands on her hips, suitcase in hand.

“Guys,” She shook her head fondly at them, “This apartment is your home, it’s filled with Stiles stuff and Nathans stuff, and Stiles and Nathan stuff.”

“Lyds,” Stiles started.

“Yes, yes. I _know_ I’ll always have a place with you.” She took the words right out of his mouth, “ But it’s time for me to find my own home too. Plus, Stark Industries pays its employees very generously.”

“You don’t have to go right now.” Stiles said, eying her suitcase.

“I’ve already found an apartment, it’s a fifteen minute walk from here.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want help carrying your boxes?” Nathan asked.

Lydia gave them a sweet smile before showing them to her room, where a good three dozen boxes were stacked. “I’ve already rung the rest of the pack, they’ll be here shortly to help.”

Stiles grunted as Lydia hefted two boxes into his arms, Nathan picked up four without a sound. Stiles shot his boyfriend a playful glare and got a toothy grin in return.

_3 years prior, Beacon Hills_

“Hale, for the last time. I am not giving you my sons contact information.”

“Sheriff please,” Derek gritted out, “We need him.

“You didn’t need him six years ago.”

“Yes we did,” Derek sighed, hanging his head in shame, “I was just too stupid to realise it.”

The sheriff considered him for a long moment, “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, huh?” he said, but not unkindly.

“Yeah.”

“Go home, Hale. Get some rest, try and figure out whatever it is in the morning.”

Derek left the Police station with no more information than when he came in, instead he gained metric ton of regret.

_2 years prior, Manhattan_

“Marry me?”

Stiles was gaping with tears in his eyes. Nathan was down on one knee, the rest of the pack standing in a semi-circle surrounding him with The letters _W-I-L-L U M-A-R-R-Y M-E ?_ printed on their T-shirts. They were in the middle of times square and a crowd had gathered.

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice. The crowd cheered and Nathan leapt to his feet, sweeping stiles into a twirling hug before kissing him senseless.

They pulled apart only when their bodies need for oxygen demanded it. Nathan leaned forward so that their foreheads and noses were touching, both of them smiling so wide it hurt.

“Yes.” Stiles whispered, practically into Nathan’s mouth, “ _yes_.”

-

The video of Nathan's proposal ended up going viral.

-

“Is everything in place?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Yes.”

“Is every _one_ in place?”

“ _Yes_.”

“And the flowers? Lydia please tell me the flowers are –“

“Stiles!” Lydia said firmly, “Everything is perfect. Your dad is waiting to walk you down the aisle. You can do this.”

Stiles looked at himself in the mirror one last time. His hair, usually a birds nest or a buzzcut, was artfully tamed to look like he’d just run his hands through it. The suit Lydia had strong armed him into buying was, admittedly, beautiful, but it also cost about as much as Lydia’s tuition. The white fabric was comfortable and form fitting, clearly accentuating his best feature and the reason Nathan was marrying him: his ass.

Just kidding, though it _is_ a pretty great ass.

Stiles himself had really filled out these past eight years thanks to Maria's rigorous training, every inch of him was covered in lean muscle and sun tanned skin – he’d also gained about a thousand new moles since moving to Manhattan.

“I can do this.”

The walk to the clearing was a treacherous one, but mostly for everyone else. Stiles was riding on Joe’s back to prevent getting his suit dirty, the older man grumbled all the way. Nathan and him had decided to host the wedding in that small clearing where they’d met, for symbolism purposes. Nathan thought it was sweet and Stiles was a tad indulgent when it comes to things Nathan likes.

Soon enough the clearing came into view.

Joe set Stiles down and patted his shoulder before drawing him into a hug.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

Stiles grinned, “Thanks, Joe.”

There weren’t many guests: just the pack, Gina and Doreen (Lydia’s banshee mentor), Libby had flown out from LA to be there, plus a few of their friends from the other Manhattan packs.

“You ready for this Stiles?” His dad asked, smiling widely at his son.

This was only the fifth time John had visited him in Manhattan, the constant danger of Beacon Hills forcing him to stay on his toes. But he’d spent time with Nathan on four out of those five visits and he could tell that he was a good man – wolf? Doesn’t matter. The boy worshipped the ground his son walked on, and that was good enough for John Stilinski.

“I’m so ready.”

“You’re not nervous?”

“Nope,” Stiles laughed, “I thought I would be but… I’m just excited.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road, kid.”

Stiles slid his hand through his dad’s arms and they began a slow walk down the make shift aisle.

Nathan and Stiles gave each other matching grins when their eyes met, both checking each other out. Nathan had never seen the white suit before, likewise Stiles was taking in the navy blue suit for the first time as well.

Damn, his future husband was a catch.

-

Stiles took a deep breath before reaching for his prompt cards, “Nathan Sawyer. When we met, right here in this clearing, I remember feeling a rush of fondness for this dude I didn’t even know. I thought maybe I was crazy? Maybe it was just a little crush? I don’t know. But I’ve always trusted my gut, and every moment with you just cements the fact that I was _right_. You are amazing, and funny, and you listen to my rambling no matter how obscure the topic is. I was… broken, before we met. You are the gold lacquer they used to put me back together. I love you with everything I am, and I can’t wait to be your husband."

-

Nathan not-so-discretely wiped away a tear, “Though to follow that,” This elected a small laugh from the guests, “But here goes: Mieczyslaw Stilinski, the love of my life. We were never supposed to meet. By all right I should have died before you ever stepped foot in New York. Fate brought Maria Romero to the scene and gave me another chance, Fate brought Maria to you too, and she brought us together. You are… awe-inspiring, like a galaxy condensed into a living person. I love you with everything I am, and I will be _honoured_ to call you my husband.”

-

“I pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom!”

Nathan dipped Stiles low and gave him the kiss of a life time. The photograph of that moment would be going up on their shelf the second they got back from the honey moon.

_1 year prior, Beacon Hills_

“I found him.”

“What?” Derek turned to look at the other alpha. Scott was holding his laptop and nearly bouncing in place, “Who?”

“ _Stiles_. Who else?”

Derek gaped for a moment, “Wha – how?”

“Allison was scrolling through YouTube when she found…” Scott clicked on a video, “ _this_.”

Derek watched as the phone camera settled onto the centre of a crowd of people. Two men stood close together, the taller one tapped his partners shoulder and pointed behind him. When he turned to look several people spun around and unbuttoned their jackets, revealing T-shirts spelling out ‘will u marry me ?’. The taller man dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring.

‘Marry me?’ he said, and the other man spun around in shock.

The camera angle changed and Derek got his first good look at the shorter man. He was more built than Derek remembered, nothing remained of the scrawniness of his youth. But the hair was the same, as were the expressive hazel eyes. The man was absolutely, undeniably _Stiles_.

Derek felt something crack in his chest as he watched the man he loved (the man he’d hurt, and betrayed, and driven away) said yes to spending the rest of his life with someone else.

Derek had the sudden urge to reach through the computer and punch that other man right in his chiselled cheek bones for daring to touch _his_ Stiles. Only Stiles wasn’t his anymore. The video was dated almost a year ago, no doubt Stiles and this man had already tied the knot.

“Derek?” Scott’s question snapped Derek out of the melancholy haze he’d drifted into, “What should we do?”

“Nothing.”

“What? We’ve spent years trying to get him home and now –“

“He’s in New York, Scott. We could search for weeks and turn up with nothing. How long do you think we can leave our territory undefended?”

“I –“

“As Alpha you have a responsibility to this land, Scott. We both do. We cannot shirk our duties for one man.”

Scott was quite for a long second, then:”… I guess.”

Derek frowned after Scott left. If information about Stiles’s location had come in any other form, he’d have been on the first flight over. But anger and jealousy dulled his love sickness, and his rationality was able to take control.

“Derek –“ Isaac gasped, running into the loft with an unconscious Boyd in his arms.

Thank god for self-control.

_Present, Manhattan_

“ _What_?!” Stiles gaped, beside him Nathan laughed.

“um.” Peter said.

It took two entire minutes for Stiles to process what he’d just been asked.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Peter asked tentatively over the phone, “Are you still there.”

“Yes.” He said, “Peter, oh my god, you don’t even have to ask. Literally free food for life if you bring Tony Stark to my bakery.”

“You already give me free food.” The kid sassed back.

“It’s the principle of the matter, kid!”

“Alright, alright. We’re on our way.”

“Do you want privacy charms?”

“Is that a thing?”

“No, I just offered to put up some made up magic when Tony Stark is coming to my bakery.”

“You’re not that funny, Mr Stilinski. And he’s not that cool, calm down.”

Stiles made an offended gasp, an almost identical sound came from the other end.

“Peter,” he said quietly, “Do you have Tony stark next to you right now?”

“Um, no?”

“Try again.”

“Maybe…”

“Oh my god, can he hear me?”

“I can hear you.” A voice that was like five times deeper than Peters said.

Nathan laughed so hard at Stiles’s horrified expression that he fell of the counter.

“Please ignore my husband, Mr Stark” Stiles said, mortified, “I’m very excited to have you in my bakery.”

The man snorted, “I can tell.”

Peter seemingly took the phone back, “Okay we’re like a minute away Mr. Stilinski. Bye.”

“Bye.” Stiles echoed weakly.

After getting Nathan up off the floor by spritzing him with bottled water like a cat – something Nathan refused to find hilarious despite the irony – Stiles threw up a quick privacy ward. Nothing strong, just something that would make people’s eyes skip over the doors and windows to the shop. A person would have to know exactly where they’re going to get in.

He totally stole the idea from Harry Potter.

“Mr Stilinski!” Peter greeted him with a hug and Nathan with a wave.

“Mr Stilinski.” Mr Stark nodded at him and shook his hand. _Tony Stark shook his hand. Holy shit._

“What can I get you, Mr Stark?’ Stiles asked after he seated them.

“I’ll just get whatever the kids having.”

Stiles snorted, then he flicked his hand and Peter’s lunch floated out from the kitchen, “Are you sure about that, Mr Stark?”

The man eyed the huge portions placed in front of his intern before quickly shaking his head. “I’ll just have whatever you recommend.”

“Yes sir.” Stiles saluted, “Any allergies.”

“No.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back. My husband will be out in like five seconds and he will most likely want to show you a card trick, please pretend to be amazed.”

Stiles hurried into the kitchen and dug around in the fridge for the steak and kidney pie he hadn’t had time to finish this morning. It was totally meant for pack dinner tomorrow but this was _Tony_ _Stark_. He could make another pie tomorrow.

When Stiles walked out with the steaming pie in hand he was greeted with the sight of his husband asking a world renowned hero, “Is _this_ your card?”

Jonah had made the mistake of giving Nathan a box of magic tricks for his birthday. The last three weeks of card tricks and disappearing coins was the result.

“Huh, wow. It is, good job man.” Mr. Stark patted Nathans shoulder, causing the man to beam. Stiles felt a soft smile creep onto his face at the sight.

“Here you go, Mr Stark.”

“This looks delicious, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles, Please.”

“Then you must call me Tony.”

Stiles smiled, “This is literally the best day of my life. _Not_ including our wedding.” He tacked on when he saw the pout Nathan was levelling him with.

Just then, Stiles’s phone began to ring. He shot Peter an apologetic smile and slipped into the kitchen.

_Present, Beacon Hills_

“Is this a Mr Mic – Mi – Mu – um, is this Mr. Stilinski?”

A sigh from the other end, “Yes that’s me, Mieczyslaw Stilinski. What do you need”

“This is Beacon Hills memorial hospital calling to inform you that John Stilinski had been admitted.”

“ _What!_? What for?”

“He was stabbed in the abdomen sir, he’s currently in surgery but odds are that he’ll pull through.”

“How long will he be admitted?”

“Probably a few days maybe a week or two.”

“I’ll be down there by tomorrow.”

“Okay, sir, we’ll mark you down. See you soon.”

“Thank you.”


	2. Maybe sure i'm out of my depth, can't dance but i just can't accept that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> man, this was only supposed to be a two chapter thing but fuck it. i need a chapter three or chapter two was going to be 20k. #sorrynotsorry. Also can i just say that the response for chapter one literally made me cry MULTIPLE times, you lot are so sweet. The teenwolf fandom is amazing. tell me what you think of this one at the end, lovelies.  
> \- OH also i got a tumblr for my writing!! it's kind of completely blank at the moment but ya'll can ask me stuff and kind of interact better over on tumblr, so check it out if you want :negligiblyfae.tumblr.com  
> with love,  
> IdeasOfMarch.

_Eight years prior, Manhattan_

The sun was hot.

Not something entirely unusual for this time of year. But Nathan remembered it specifically because his car’s air conditioning was shot to hell. The poor thing made little gurgling noises every now and then as it tried to spit out what cool air it could, but it was for nought. The summer heat drowned out any relief it offered, and Nathan was forced to switch it off entirely to stop wasting gas.

His mother had absolutely told him to get that checked when it first started flaking out on him, but he just _had_ to go on and insist that old Darla could last another month at least. Under his body, Darla groaned, the car equivalent of a petulant whine.

Thanks a whole lot, Darla.

Nathan couldn’t even complain to anyone. Friends were not something he had right now (The issues with growing up in a town like his: you get to find out all your friends are homophobic in one fell swoop and then you have to move to New York because bullying is not _fun_ ) and if he told his family his mum would be insufferable for the rest of forever.

Anyway, it was a hot, hot day.

He was sweating bullets through his jeans and the mini fan he’d bought three days ago was not helping. Nathan was trapped in his car, a half hour from his flat and stuck in some stupid jam because of road work happening up ahead, with the heat slowly lulling him into a drowsy state.

And then everything happened all at once.

Or rather, it all happened very quickly, one event after the other in such short sequence Nathan felt like he’d been trying not to fall asleep one second and hanging upside down the next.

It took roughly three seconds for his brain to catch up with his body. A collision – at least three cars, including his, involved – and the seatbelt was cutting into the skin of his shoulder.

Then Nathan was moving.

Things never worked when you panicked – and he was starting to smell gas in the air so panicking was definitely becoming an appealing course of action – so Nathan tried to calm himself down. He reached one shaky hand down to unclasp the seatbelt, bracing the other on the roof of his car so that he could control his decent.

Crawling out of the car wasn’t easy. Glass and rock and tar cut into his already aching skin and his shirt had more holes than material by the time he was standing.

Nathan knew gas was flammable and so standing next to the definitely leaking car was not a good idea, but before he could limp away he heard a cry. He looked to his left. A little girl reaching out of the door of a beat up black pick-up truck.

A women cried out, placing a boy even younger than the girl onto the pavement and racing back for the girl.

The smell of gas was getting thicker in the air.

The girl sobbed, crawling as best she could from the wreckage.

There was no time.

Nathan darted forward, a little wobbly but stable enough to tug the girl out from under the car. Her legs were a bloody mess, he didn’t bother asking if she could run away herself. With the girl in his arms Nathan hobbled away as fast as he could, he’d turned so his back was to the wreckage and the girl was tucked safely behind his tall frame.

He hadn’t expected there to be enough time to get away.

There wasn’t.

The explosion was huge and terrible and _hot_. The force of it sent Nathan flying forwards. The girl screamed in his arms, but it was more from fright than from the pain of being burnt. Nathan could tell. Mostly because he knew _he_ was screaming with the pain of it.

When he landed it must have hurt. Nathan knew it should. But his back was on fire, literally, everything else just seemed secondary at that point.

A women was running towards him, the girl wiggled out from his arms and collapsed into what must have been her mother’s arms.

“Thank you.” The women murmured, his vision was going spotty but Nathan was pretty sure he managed a smile, “ _thank_ _you_.”

And then it went dark.

-

“what if he…”

“…Okay?”

Nathan couldn’t open his eyes.

He was lying on his front. People were touching him. He couldn’t move his mouth to tell them to stop.

“…Don’t know but…”

“Can…?”

He drifted back into unconsciousness.

-

He was moving in a big car – an ambulance, shit that was going to be expensive – still lying on his front.

Someone was clutching his hand.

“don’t worry, mister. My mumma s’ gonna help you.”

-

“Maria, no!”

“Loree, you said it yourself: he won’t survive without the bite.”

“And you can’t give it to him without his consent!”

“He’s as good as dead, Loree! He will be dead if I don’t -”

“Maria, you can’t save him.”

“I _can_.”

“Accidents happen, people die. You can’t go biting people willy-nilly every time something bad happens.”

“But he would’ve made it out.”

“What?”

“I saw. He was out, he could have ran and been just fine. But he went back and pulled Mina out. He used himself as a _shield_ to spare her from the flames. Loree, _please_.”

“Maria…”

“Mina would be dead if not for him, there was no way I could have reached her in time. He saved my baby, let me return the favour.”

“I…”

“I’ll take full responsibility for him.”

“how am I supposed to explain this to the rest of the staff.”

“Just say it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

“I’ll have to cancel the surgery. You have an hour. Bite the boy, cover it, and act normal. I’ll tell everyone you're family.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Maria.”

-

Nathan blinked his way back to consciousness – and _god_ , even that ached what the _hell_. He was fairly certain that his eyelids had no right to ache so much.

There were two children lying on his hospital bed and a women passed out in the room’s lone chair.

A little boy was using his unbandaged arm as a pillow and the girl – the same one he’d pulled out of the car – she was tucked into his side. They both looked like they needed the rest, so Nathan did his best not to disturb them too much as he pulled in breath after chocked breath.

“You’re awake.”

The woman’s voice startled him, If he’d been able to he’d have jumped.

Nathan tried to respond, but the best he could manage was a garbled hum.

“Don’t try and talk yet. If you rest it enough your voice should be back to normal by tomorrow.”

Despite her advice, Nathan could not help but make an alarmed noise that sounded not unlike that of a strangled goose.

The women laughed lightly, “Don’t worry, young man. You will be fine, better than fine, actually.” She paused, frowning a bit and then fixing him with a serious gaze, “First I must thank you. My daughter would be dead without your interference.”

Nathan looked down at the sleeping girl at his side. Her hair was singed and she had a couple of bandages covering her legs, but she looked relatively fine.

Yeah, no regrets there.

“And secondly I must apologise.”

Nathan croaked an inquiring noise.

The women frowned and hesitated, “Saving my daughter should have cost you your life. It would have had I not… stepped in.”

 _What?_ He wanted to say. _That makes no sense._

“You see I am a werewolf –“

Nathan’s first thought was: _cool_. His second was: what the _fuck_?

“- and I turned you, without the accelerated healing you would have succumbed to your injuries hours ago.” She sighed, staring at him intently, “You don’t believe me.”

He didn’t. And then she shifted and _hoo_ boy. Yep, yes-siree, werewolves were a thing and this lady was one. Apparently so was Nathan.

That was… cool.

Also terrifying.

But mostly cool. Because according to the nice werewolf lady he’d be dead if she hadn’t turned him into a werewolf. And being dead is like, the opposite of cool.

“You’re staying with my family until the first full moon.”

She said it like she was very used to getting her way. And despite everything, Nathan couldn’t find it in him to want to go against her. He gave her a short bob of his head. The approving smile she gave him as she leaned back down made him feel all warm inside.

Must be a werewolf thing.

“By the way, child.” Nathan’s eyes flicked back to the women, “My name is Maria Romero, and I am your new alpha.”

Something solid snapped into existence in that place right beside his heart.

Yeah.

Definitely a werewolf thing.

_Present, Manhattan_

Stiles was freaking out.

His dad had been stabbed. _Stabbed_.

Gods above he hoped it was just a regular old knife and not some cursed blade that trapped souls or something. What the fuck even was his life that being stabbed with a knife was the _preferable_ option?

It didn’t matter, the nurse said his dad would probably be fine.

He _would_ be fine, right?

“Stiles,” Nathan was standing at the doorway to the kitchen. “I heard.”

Of course, werewolf hearing.

Stiles managed a croak, “Will you come with?”

“Of course I’m coming with you.” Nathan stepped forward, “I’d follow you to hell.”

“Be careful what you wish for, babe.” Stiles murmured as he stepped into Nathan's arms, “Beacon hills is as close to hell as you can get without actually dying.”

Nathan hummed, “Do you want me to tell…?”

“Yeah, let the pack know.” Stiles paused, “And tell them that under no circumstances may they all come with.”

Nathan grimaced. And it made Stiles laugh despite everything. He tucked his head under Nathan's neck and nuzzled the area. The pack was going to be impossible about this. When it came to supporting each other they were relentless, no matter how unwanted said support was.

It was sweet, if exhausting.

“Mr Stilinski –“ Peter darted into the kitchen, Tony- _freaking_ -Stark hot on his heels.

“Stiles.” He corrected on reflex.

“I heard –“

Right. Peter had super hearing too.

“Kid,” Tony interrupted placing a hand on Peters shoulders, Stiles was guessing he’d been filled in from the concerned look in his eyes, “Stiles, you are, uh, welcome to use one of my jets to get home.”

“Huh?”

“You’re Peter’s family,” Stiles flicked his eyes over to Peter without pulling away from Nathan, the boy was blushing something fierce, he smiled at him and Peter shyly returned it with a grin of his own. Tony continued on, oblivious to the exchange, “That makes you avengers adjacent-adjacent.”

“Again,” Stiles said, “Huh?”

“Well, Peter is avengers adjacent. So family is adjacent- adjacent.” Tony explained, then frowned, “Point is: I can get you to…”

“California,” Nathan filled in.

“California, in like three hours.”

Stiles nodded, “Thank you, Tony. That would be amazing.”

“Can I come?” Peter asked.

“School.” Tony, Stiles and Nathan said at once.

There was a beat of silence.

Peter broke it with a whine, “But I want to meet your dad! And school is pretty useless right now, I taught myself the stuff we’re learning now three years ago.”

Stiles blinked, “Attendance is important.”

“And you already miss enough due to your spider duties.” Tony added.

“But you need support!”

Nathan snorted and whispered into Stiles’s hair, “He’d fit right in with the rest of the pack.”

Stiles elbowed Nathan in the stomach, “Not helping, babe.”

“Please.” Peter gave them his best puppy eyes. Which were incredibly effective – holy hell. Stiles had to look away.

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, evidently used to and partially immune to the puppy eyes. “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll go with them.”

“What?!” Stiles said, Tony Stark wanted to follow _him_ to his home town – what the _fuck_?, “For real? Oh my god, my dad is going to freak out.”

“I mean, sure. I’ve got like five meetings to go to and if we leave soon Pepper won’t be able to stop me.”

Nathan's phone buzzed in his pocket. “Lydia and Maria are coming.”

“But I said –“

“Stiles, I love you. But I’m not telling either of those women no.”

Stiles paused, then shrugged, “Yeah that’s fair.”

“Lydia _and_ Maria are coming?” Peter gasped, “I will literally do anything to go on this trip.”

Stiles looked at Tony, shrugging as if to say: _it’s up to you, he’s_ your _mentee_.

Tony raised an eyebrow in challenge: _he’s practically in_ your _pack thingy._

Stiles pursed his lips _: fair enough, together then?_

Tony gave him a short nod.

“Okay that’s creepy.” Nathan pointed between the two of them, Peter nodded his agreement.

“Peter can come.” Tony said, ignoring their previous comment, “On the conditions that, one: no more absences for the rest of the semester.”

Peter’s cheers quickly transformed into groans.

“Two:” Stiles smirked, “You keep a tracker on you at all times. Beacon hills is an actual hell mouth and if you die your aunt will kill me. Also I’d be devastated if you died so please refrain from doing so for the duration of the trip.”

“And that brings us to condition three: you ask your aunt.”

Peter glared at them, “You guys are the _worst_.”

With that the teenage superhero stomped out of the kitchen, presumably to go call his aunt, a smirking billionaire following behind him. Stiles turned to Nathan.

“Nathan, could you –“

“I’ve got the bags covered. How long?”

Stiles sighed in relief, “A week, maybe two.” Nathan always knew just what he needed.

“Got it, I’ll come fetch you when I’m done?”

And what he needed right now was time to bake his stress away.

“That’s perfect.”

_8 years prior, Beacon Hills_

“Sheriff please.” Scott was practically on his knees at this point.

John Stilinski just frowned, entirely unimpressed. “Scott, listen to me very carefully. I will _not_ tell you where Stiles is. I will _not_ give you his contact information. And I will _not_ call him on your behalf. I refuse to allow you to drag my son back into all _this_.” He waved a hand in Scott’s general direction.

Scott whined, not unlike his canine alter-ego, “At least let him know what’s going on here.”

The sheriff snorted, “Are you kidding me? If Stiles had any idea what’s been happening he’d be on the first flight over.”

Scott’s eyes lit up with hope.

The sheriff frowned and continued, “which is precisely why he will _never_ find out. Despite everything you’ve done to him, he still cares about you.”

Scott frowned, “He’s still pack, we care too.”

“No. You don’t care about him.” John shook his head and swallowed a lump in his throat, “I don’t know when you stopped caring, Scott. But you did, and you still don’t. The only thing you care about is what he can do for you. And I won’t allow you to use my son like that – not anymore.”

“No, that’s not –“

“Get out, Scott.” John sighed, he couldn’t even muster up the energy to be furious, he was just tired, “Just… go. And if you come back without a crime to report I _will_ arrest you.”

The second his office door shut the sheriff sighed again.

This wouldn’t be the last time a member of the pack tried to weasel information out of him. And perhaps they were right to try, god knows everything would run a lot smoother if Stiles was still here. A lot less people would be dead.

But then he remembers how quiet Stiles had gotten in those last few months before he’d been kicked out.

It had been… jarring. Stiles was _made_ of energy and noise and snappy comebacks, silence was unnatural in the worst way for someone like that. He remembers how Stiles had stopped going out, and how the pack had stopped sneaking in.

John can still see the dark circles that had only ever seemed to get deeper, the rapid weight loss, the bruises that almost never got a chance to fully heal before being replaced with fresh ones.

Maybe, if Stiles was still here, there would be less casualties, less property damage, less pain.

But John had visited Stiles in New York two months ago.

And he was smiling again.

John would watch this town burn to ash before he allowed them to steal the life from his son’s eyes again.

_Present, Tony Stark’s private jet._

“So… Peter tells me you’re a wizard?”

“Ugh.” Stiles groaned quietly, “I am _not_ a wizard. I’m a Spark, and there is a _difference_.”

Part of stiles – oh, who was he kidding?: like ninety eight percent of him couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. First _Tony_ _Stark_ walks into his bakery, which is enough to stun even the most nonchalant bakers. Then he gets news that his father, who lives in the supernatural hell zone of America, is in surgery for a stab wound of all things. Then Tony Stark, who busy was eating food in _his_ bakery, offered to personally deliver him to said hell zone.

He’d though he’d reached his quota for weird when he found out about werewolves. Then again when aliens became a thing that just happened every other year.

But no. _Nope_.

This entire day was giving all his past experiences a run for their fucking money.

Now he was sat on _Tony_ _Stark’s,_ a literal superhero that Stiles was on a first name basis with, private jet, snuggled into his sleeping husband’s side and making small talk – or, what passed for small talk for people with their sort of life.

“So do you know Dr Strange?”

“The sorcerer supreme? I fucking hate that guy.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “master of the mystic arts. He’s so pretentious. Shut up, you’re a fucking wizard.”

Tony blinked.

“Did you just quote project runway?”

Stiles blinked back.

“You _watch_ project runway?”

“Don’t judge me, it’s a good show.”

“I mean, I agree with you but, man.” Stiles giggled, “Can’t say I ever pictured iron man sitting down and watching a fashion show.”

Tony snorted, “You should see the other avengers, Cap is _obsessed_ with the vampire diaries.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes.”

Stiles laughed, “Oh my god. As someone who’s interacted with literal vampires: that show is ridiculous.”

“You’ve met _real_ vampires?”

“Yep.”

“What are they like,” Tony asked.

“They’re just people,” Stiles shrugged, “The ones I’ve met have been pretty chill, they have some amazing stories too. But there’s this one guy – Alexander – total whacko.

“I _love_ Alexander.” Lydia piped up from where she and peter were hovering over a pile of blueprints.

“You just like the fact that he loans you authentic vintage clothes.”

“He never wears any of it!” Lydia shot back.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at her and, despite not even turning around to look, Lydia stuck hers out in response.

Tony raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Stiles laughed when he caught sight of it.

“Don’t look so worried, there’s not a undead nudist on the loose.”

“But you said…”

Stiles laughed again, “Nah, he’s been dressing in exclusively purple for the last three centuries – that didn’t stop him from collecting clothes over the years.”

“Then why would Ms Martin want them?”

Stiles just barely managed to hide his snort at the title. Tony was, evidently, terrified of Lydia. He’d almost tripped when she’d walked into the hangar, he _had_ fallen straight on his face when Peter pounced on the women for a hug.

“Alexander keeps all the clothing of his dead lovers too.”

“That’s not creepy at all.”

Stiles shrugged, “The man’s been around since the fall of Rome, he’s allowed his eccentricities. Me and Nathan are going out for dinner with him next month.”

“Dinner? Like:” Tony placed his index fingers in his mouth and imitated biting someone.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Not _blood_. We’re going to some fancy restaurant – his latest human flame is a chef there, he promised to introduce me.”

“Well.” Tony said, clearing his throat and looking very much like a man coming to grips with the fact of his own mortality (or more accurately: the fact of someone else’s _immortality_ ).

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said, reaching forward to pat Tony’s shoulder, “The supernatural world takes some getting used to. I was sixteen when I was thrust into it – and trust me: shits crazy.”

“Sixteen? _Jesus_.”

“Yeah,” Stiles laughed, “Nathan, at least, was twenty when Maria bit him, handled it a lot better than I did, that’s for sure.”

“You were sixteen, kid.” Tony said, “ _I’m_ kind of freaking out about it, I’m sure you were entitled to a little shock.”

“You don’t _look_ like your freaking out.” Stiles pouted.

“Trust me,” He laughed, “I am.”

“Mhm,” Stiles said, “sure you are.”

“Whatever, kid –“

“Not a kid” Stiles replied reflexively.

“You’re like twenty.”

“Twenty _seven_.”

“So _kid_ ,” Tony laughed at his glare, “tell me more about your magic.”

“I’m a spark,” Stiles said, “which means – how do I explain this? Like, I can do blanket magic.”

“What?”

Stiles puffed up his cheeks, “Okay so let’s say druids: they have their rituals… and witches, they have spells. But it’s all channelled, specialised types of energy that they can tap into with the right tools. Sparks have access to the natural energy of the earth, completely unrestricted.”

“Whoa. So you’re like the ultimate magic user.”

“Not exactly. See, if you don’t get proper training, Spark magic can be fucked over super easily.”

Tony cocked his head slightly, “What do you mean?”

“Hmm. So, I’d actually have to study rituals and spells in order to perform them, which everyone else has to do anyway. But if I learned any of that _before_ my spark training… my magic would naturally restrict itself. And I’d turn into a druid, or a witch, or – heaven forbid,” Stiles shivered, “a master of the mystic arts.”

Tony raised his eyebrows so high it almost looked like a werewolf shift, “That’s… weird.”

Stiles shrugged, “Magic is funky. It did happen to me, actually. A druid taught me how to spread mountain ash and –“

“Mountain ash?” Tony cut in.

“Oh yeah, supernatural creatures can’t cross a line of it. Really great for protecting places, or you know, setting traps.”

“Okay.” Tony dragged the word out but nodded for Stiles to continue.

“Anyway, he taught me druidic rules so now I’m stuck with it. My mentor, she can spread mountain ash in any pattern conceivable or make it so that specific individuals, no matter their species, can enter or exit. The only thing I can do is spread a circle that keeps werewolves in or out.”

“Did this druid guy know he was restricting you?

Stiles shrugged, “Probably. Deaton was a shifty guy, I never really trusted him.”

“It’s a good thing he didn’t teach you more.”

“Yeah,” Stiles swallowed. The truth was, Deaton had almost completely extinguished his Spark, or he’d tried to anyway. Belief was important to Sparks, and the druid had attempted to get Stiles to believe his spark useless. He had wanted stiles to believe it was worth nothing more than a few parlour tricks and spreading mountain ash.

It would have worked, too – if Stiles hadn’t been suspicious of everything Deaton said and did.

The speaker was filled with static for a moment before the pilots voice filtered through.

“We will be landing in roughly ten minutes. Please strap your seat belts on and remain seated.”

_8 years prior, Manhattan_

Gwen Lovren had never expected to be a part of a werewolf pack.

She’d been born into the supernatural world, but wolves were a far sight more… _intense_ than a half-wind spirit. Her parents weren’t very connected to the rest of the supernatural, preferring instead to settle in a mundane suburbia with enough forest and lakes to sate her mother’s needs.

She’d grown up carefully learning to walk the line between spirit and girl. Her mother, a pure-blooded Vila, had had centuries to perfect the art. Gwen had only had until she needed to start pre-school. At that point, a quiet little town seemed the perfect place for a girl who’d turn into a falcon if she wasn’t paying attention.

But the constraints grew stifling as she aged. And, by the time she turned seventeen, Gwen was more than determined to move to the big city.

-

Mike was a chemistry major. He helped her find her way to the physics department on her first day at NYU and then walked her to class every day since. Gwen liked his laugh and his eyes and the way he brought her flowers after he finally worked up the nerve to ask her on a date.

He was also a werewolf.

She’d found that out four months into their relationship. He’d been so nervous, the poor thing, all flustered and apologetic about not telling her sooner.

Gwen had laughed lightly, kissed him, and then let herself fall into her more feathery state.

He’d been absolutely baffled.

“But- _what_?”

She’d smiled, “Couldn’t smell me, could ya?”

“I couldn’t.” Mike looked like he was having an identity crisis. “Oh my god. Am I _loosing_ my sense of smell?!”

“Calm down. Mikey.” Gwen loosened her grip on the air surrounding her body, letting her scent bleed through the air for the first time in years. “I’m half-Vila.”

“Ohh, a wind spirit. That makes so much more sense.” Mike had mumbled, mostly to himself. He sniffed the air, cautious, “You smell like oxygen and pine cones.”

“Thank you.”

Mike had insisted on introducing him to her alpha, Maria. And then it had been Gwen’s turn to be a stuttering mess, because not only was Maria his Alpha, she was also his insanely protective older sister.

Gwen showed up ten minutes early, with a pot of her mother’s favourite stew. Maria had been, as predicted, cordially terrifying. The dinner had started off awkward, with Maria needling Gwen every other second on her intentions with her baby brother. Joe, Maria’s husband, attempted to defuse the steadily growing tension to little effect.

The Alpha had only really calmed down once her son, Ben, had been passed into Gwen’s arms and started happily babbling into her ear. Gwen smiled down at the toddler and gently tickled his sides.

After that things took a more relaxed tone.

She’d left that night with hugs and promises to arrange another meeting.

Soon enough, she was being introduced to Katie and Jonah, Mike’s cousin and her boyfriend. Before she knew Gwen was being invited to pack training and hangouts, she and Mike were moving in together, and several pack bonds were snapping into place.

So yeah, she’d never expected to join a wolf pack. But she didn’t regret it one bit.

-

She’d been 26 when Nathan Sawyer had stumbled into their lives.

“Hi.”

He was tall, broad shouldered and classically handsome. Or, she imagined he would be, if his entire body wasn’t covered in gauzy bandages. What little she could see of his caramel skin and dark hair led her to believe that he’d probably be a heart breaker when his wounds healed.

If they healed.

“What _happened_ to you?” Katie asked, taking on that tone that usually indicated there was a wounded animal cowering in front of her.

“Um, my car kind of exploded.” He said hesitantly.

Gwen felt her eyebrows rising. Katie gasped and Gwen knew she’d already adopted him in her mind, despite the fact that he was probably only a year or two younger than Katie herself.

Maria stepped forwards and they all looked towards her.

“My children and I were caught in the same accident,” She paused as the pack instantly become agitated, their collective worry flooding through the pack bonds, “Nathan was fatally injured when he saved Mina’s life. I managed to convince Loree to let me give him the bite.”

“Huh,” Mike said, “Loree let you bite an unconscious dude?”

Maria shrugged, “He saved Mina, I owed him that at least.”

Gwen understood Mike’s scepticism. Loree was an ex-huntress working at the local hospital. She’d dropped out of the hunting game years ago on account of how often her fellow hunters broke their sacred code. She’d dropped off the grid for three years and resurfaced as a registered nurse, not hesitating to contact local packs and inform them that she was willing to patch up or cover for them. Despite this, she was still a stickler for ye old hunter rules.

The number one being: _No were-creature may turn a non-consenting human._

Jonah smiled at Nathan, “How long ago was the crash?”

“Last week.”

Jonah coughed in surprise, “Well,” he said, trying his best to sound like he wasn’t having a mini panic attack on Nathan’s behalf, “Good thing you’ve still got a week to heal before the full moon.”

Nathan laughed, and Gwen could sense the vague hysteria laced in it, “Yep. Good thing.”

Oh right, she thought, it’s only been a week since he almost died. And since he found out about the supernatural. The poor kid must be freaking out.

They’d spent the remainder of the pack bonding session playing a rousing game of monopoly and getting to know Nathan. By the end of it Joe was dominating the board, Katie had been bankrupted and forced to sell all her property to Mike, and Gwen was pretty sure Jonah wasn’t going to speak to her for weeks.

Nathan goaded her into showing off her powers, so she manipulated the air currents and levitated herself off the ground in a move incredibly reminiscent of an air bender. She’d also subtly accelerated his healing.

Healing was not something Gwen excelled at. Being only half-Vila, she’d only inherited a fraction of her mothers power. While Diane Lovren could incite a hurricane, the best Gwen could muster was a short lived thunder storm. Where her mother could level towns in her anger, Gwen would unintentionally give someone a couple of days of bad luck if they pissed her off.

Diane could bring someone back from the brink of death. Gwen could maybe cure a stomach ache.

Mike liked to say migraines couldn’t get him if he was cuddling with her.

So she pushed as much of her healing magic into the poor burned boy as she could and watched as he rolled his shoulders, sighing slightly at the relief.

“Thanks.” He said.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled back.

-

Three months later, Stiles and Lydia showed up to training.

Gwen knew about them, of course she did. Mina and Ben adored them, and delighted in telling stories about them on pack nights. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t already endeared to the two teenagers.

They were awkward in the beginning, all introductions to the pack tend to be, but soon enough they’d been pulled into the fold like they belonged there. Lydia was brilliant – not that the rest of the pack wasn’t – but nobody else adored numbers and problems as much as she did.

And _Stiles_. He was adorable. He hadn’t noticed her watching him, his eyes were caught on Nathan – who was blushing up a storm. That was… interesting.

Gwen looked at Katie, the other girl raised an eyebrow and Gwen nodded.

It seemed they’d be playing matchmaker.

-

It took two years before their hard work bore fruit – but it was _so_ worth it.

_Present, Beacon Hills memorial hospital_

“Hi dad.”

John Stilinski, of course, was entirely unresponsive. A consequence of being stabbed and rushed to surgery. The heart monitor beeped steadily, reassuring Stiles even as panic threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of his father laying on a hospital bed.

He looked so much smaller than Stiles remembered.

“I’m going to kick your ass when you wake up,” Stiles laughed a little, “I told you: you aren’t allowed to get yourself killed when I’m not around.”

Nathan was sitting in the waiting area with the rest of the entourage. The nurses hadn’t allowed them all to go in, and even if they had, Stiles wanted a little bit of alone time with his dad. He knew that Peter’s puppy eyes alone could probably get them all squished into his dads room in a heartbeat.

Stiles was grateful none of them had pushed.

“The nurses say you won’t be up for another few hours.” Stiles took a seat next to the bed, lifting his dad’s hand and gripping it loosely, “Gotta say: getting stabbed is pretty lame, especially in a place like this. And it hasn’t changed much, has it? Overcrowded hospitals, highly suspicious amounts of animal attacks, deceptively quaint scenery… it’s just like I remembered.”

Stiles was quiet for a minute or two, just gazing at his dad.

“You could come with me, you know? New York isn’t the safest – we’ve got _aliens_ – but, uh, I’m there, I’d protect you.”

His dad didn’t so much as twitch in reply. Stiles sighed, he knew there was no conceivable way that his dad would go for the offer, even if he’d been awake to hear it.

Stiles pulled out his phone.

 **_Me_ ** _: Can u guys get in here now?_

 **_Me_ ** _: I need u_

 **_Hubby_ ** _**< 3**: all of us_

 **_Me_ ** _: ye_

 **_Hubby <3_ ** _: We’ll be right there_

 **_Me_ ** _: <3_

 **_Hubby <3_ ** _: <333_

Stiles didn’t even have to wait five minutes before Nathan knocked softly on the door, pushing it open and allowing Peter and Lydia to barrel through, followed by a much calmer Maria and Tony.

“How is he?” The alpha asked.

“They said he’ll be fine.” Stiles smiled tightly, “A few weeks of recovery and he’ll be back to work.”

Maria nodded, laying an hand on the sheriffs arm and draining some of the pain. Stiles watched as black tendrils flowed out of his dad and up through her arms. After a minute she removed her hand, shaking it out slightly and breathing hard through her nose.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Of course.”

-

Stiles was woken up by an insistent tapping to his forearm.

“…Wazzit?” He sat up, careful not to dislodge the snoozing werewolf leaned on his shoulder. If the dark window was any indication, it had probably been hours since they’d arrived. Stiles would probably be questioning why a nurse hadn’t come to kick them out yet if there wasn’t a billionaire passed out on the floor.

The tapping continued.

Oh.

His dad was awake.

“Hi dad.”

“Stiles,” His voice was rough, Stiles poured out some water and helped his dad drink some, “what’re you doing here.”

“Well, _someone_ got stabbed.”

The sheriff scoffed, “I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here.”

“ _Dad_.” Stiles said, “You’re hurt. Of course I was going to come.”

His dad frowned, looked around the room, then looked at stiles in alarm, “Stiles?”

“Yes, dad?”

“Why is Tony Stark lying on the floor?”

Stiles smiled, “He gave us a ride over.”

“Oh,” John said, voice not at all strangled, “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

“And whose the kid.” John paused, eyeing the boy strung across Lydia and Maria on the floor. “Did you adopt a kid without telling me?”

“What? _No_. I mean… sort of.” Stiles scratched the back of his head, “Peter is Tony’s intern, he also works with Lydia a lot. And he’s a regular at my bakery. We’ve all sort of just… yeah, I suppose adopted is the best word. But he _does_ have an aunt. That he lives with.”

“Does she know he’s here?”

“Of course she does! What kind of sort-of adoptive parents do you take us for.”

Nathan blinked awake beside him, probably agitated by Stiles incapability to sit still when he was talking.

“Hello, Sir.” He nodded at John once he registered his consciousness, “How are you feeling.”

“I’m feeling just fine, son.”

“That’s good.” Nathan squeezed Stiles’s hand, “We were all worried.”

John laughed lightly, “Honestly, I’m surprised the entire pack isn’t down here.”

“Oh trust me, dad.” Stiles added, “They tried.”

Nathan snorted, “I expect they’ll be here by the weeks end.”

“Bet.” Peter mumbled from the side of the room, “They’ll be here by tomorrow.”

“You’re on kid.”

“Ten bucks?”

“Deal.”

“Nathan.” Stiles admonished, but he was smiling, “Stop encouraging gambling.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, “Says the defending champion for pack poker.”

The sheriff smirked, “You wolves can hear heartbeats and still lose to him?”

“He masks his heart beat!” Nathan poked Stiles in the chest and pouted.

“All’s fair in love and poker, babe.”

Lydia snorted as she stretched. Climbing to her feet, she gently laid a still lazing Peter’s legs onto the floor before making her way to the bed.

“Hi john.” She said, “glad to see you’re not dead.”

“Lydia,” he smiled, “How’s my favourite kid doing?”

Lydia laughed at the same time Stiles squawked in offense.

-

“Hello, sheriff.”

“Stiles,” His dad whispered out of the side of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, “Tony Stark is talking to me.”

Stiles and Tony exchanged amused looks.

“I can see that.”

His dad seemed to snap out of it a few moments later, “It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Stark.”

“Please,” Tony smiled, “The honour is all mine.”

Stiles was pretty sure his dad almost passed out.

-

“Hi Sheriff Stilinski, sir! It’s really great to meet you, but it’s not so great that you got stabbed – I mean, it’s not great at _all_ that you got stabbed. That’s definitely a bad thing. I mean –“

“You must be Peter.” John smiled, the kid was adorable, “I hear you’re my honorary grandson.”

Peter blushed all the way up to his roots.

-

“John.”

“Alpha Romero.”

Stiles snorted, he’d never get over how intimidated his dad was by Maria.

Maria sighed, “I’ve told you a thousand times. John. You’re family, it’s Maria.”

“Whatever you say, alpha Romero.”

She sighed again.

-

“So, when can I get out of here?”

Stiles frowned, “I talked to your doctors a while ago. The wound was less severe than they thought, and with no complications in the surgery… you should be good to go tomorrow morning. But we’d have to come back in a week for a check-up.”

“That’s good.”

Stiles hummed in response.

“Where are you all staying?”

Stiles paused. They’d kind of just jumped on the jet, no planning involved.

“We’ll probably just rent a few rooms at the motel.”

“No.” John said, “That’s ridiculous. We have more than enough room at home.”

“And when the rest of the pack shows up?” He said, because that was as inevitable as the sun setting.

“We have enough room.”

They probably did, if Stiles was being honest. They had two guest rooms upstairs, one downstairs, plus the pull out couch. The entire pack could fit, if a little tightly. Stiles eyed his dad for a moment, his jaw was set and he had a steely look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t budging on his stance.

There really was no use resisting.

“Right.” Stiles said, “Guess we’re going home, then.”

_Present, Beacon hills, hale pack loft_

“Stiles is back.”

Derek snapped his attention to Scott’s bouncing form. Even at twenty seven, Scott was every bit the sixteen year old he’d bitten all those years ago. Not even becoming an alpha had tempered his behaviour. Derek would’ve sighed if he wasn’t so shellshocked at the news.

“ _What_ – are you serious?”

“Yes! Joan just called my mom, apparently the sheriff was in surgery. And _that_ was news enough but then _Stiles_ walked through the door. _Everyone’s_ talking about it.”

Stiles was back.

He was home.

Granted, Stiles hadn’t come for the pack. But if he was here then there was a chance of – he didn’t even know – reconciliation? Forgiveness? Derek felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, and looking around, the rest of the pack did too.

Erika and Boyd had perked up, or they’d lifted their heads slightly and quirked their lips, which was as close to perking up as Erika had come in years, for Boyd it was probably the closest ever. Isaac had practically leapt to his feet, bounding over to Scott like an excited puppy.

Jackson wasn’t here – he’d left three weeks after he’d arrived, saying that he was going _home_ to his pack in London – and Cora was largely indifferent. She’d never been close to Stiles, not like the rest of them.

Never the less Derek was feeling better than he had since that night he’d kicked Stiles out of the pack. Since the night he’d scrambled up to the boy’s window – to apologise? Argue with him? Maybe just slam him into a wall for making Derek feel like _this_? – and found it lined with mountain ash.

And then Scott kept talking.

“Joan said that Andrew saw him walking in with Lydia and a guy – that must be his husband – plus a kid, some other lady and – you’ll never guess who.”

“Who?” Isaac said, Derek was too busy scowling at the mention of Stiles’s husband.

“Tony Stark!”

“What?” Erica yelped.

“I _know_ right.” Scott said, “Joan said she thought Andrew was telling tales so she went to go check with Mary at reception and it’s _true_. Apparently he flew Stiles over.”

“How the hell does Stiles know Tony Stark?” Erica frowned.

“I don’t know.” Scott said, “But according to Joan they were acting real chummy, so they must be close friends or something.”

“Oh my god, Scott.” Isaac said after a beat of silence, “You sounded _just_ like your mum.”

“What?!”

Isaac laughed, “You gossip like an old lady! ‘acting real chummy’, who _says_ that?”

“Fuck off!”

The pack dissolved into mindless bickering. Derek payed them no mind.

Stiles was _home_.

Stiles was home with his husband and a child.

Something awful settled in Derek’s chest, like an icy wind irritating an open wound. If he concentrated, Derek knew he could pinpoint that ache. Trace it right back to the gaping hollow where Stiles’s pack bond used to sit.

It’s almost comical.

He hadn’t even noticed he’d had a pack bond with Stiles until it fractured. Then he felt it every single day. He felt it splinter and crumble and fade away, and then he felt the emptiness. Just like all those broken bonds he’d suffered after the fire.

Lost to him and entirely his own fault.

Derek wanted to howl in rage, but he had no right.

_6 years prior, Manhattan_

Stiles was not ashamed to admit that Gina had stumped him. She did that fairly often – was it weird to get used to shock?

“You want me to – what?”

“Therapy, Stiles.” She deadpanned, “It’s not that exciting.”

“But – but _how_?” Stiles spluttered, “Don’t get me wrong, Gina, I _know_ I’m kinda fucked. But all my trauma is full moon related – and I’d rather not end up in the psych ward.”

Gina rolled her eyes, motioning with her hand so that a mug of tea floated over from the kitchen, “Three years and you still doubt me.”

“In my defence, you say some weird things.”

“Hush,” She took a sip of her tea, “We’ve progressed far enough that I am comfortable teaching you the more nuanced forms of magic. But those require a sound mind, an inner peace if you will. You, Stiles, have neither. Do you even do your yoga?”

Stiles pouted, “I _do_. I’m just not any good at it.”

“Regardless, I know a therapist involved in our world.” Gina pulled her handbag closer to her, for once using her hands to dig through it and pull out a card, “Anita Bluestock, she’s a witch.”

“I thought you said she was a therapist.”

“She’s both.”

Right.

Stiles had still not gotten used to such mundanity when it came to the supernatural. It had been five years since he’d been brought into this world, and even if he himself was the owner of a successful bakery – though Lydia liked to give him shit about how ‘it’s not a fucking bakery, Stiles you literally serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner’. He didn’t care, the word bakery just had good vibes – and had enrolled in culinary school, the supernatural holding regular jobs and interacting with regular people? No bloodshed involved?

That would never not blow his mind.

Stiles took the card.

“Where do you even get all these people from, anyway?”

Gina smirked, “I’m a Spark.” She said, as if that explained it all.

And, to an extent, it did. Gina was not just a spark, but an exceptionally good one. Sparks relied on belief and knowledge – and Gina was a regular Matilda. She had a network of supernatural people because they all sought _her_ out.

Stiles, with a little blue phonebook that was really starting to fill up, both with people Gina or Maria introduced and with folks that Stiles just so happened to save. Or people who had saved him – those smug bastards wore it like an endearingly-annoying badge of honour: to have saved a spark.

Oh gods. Stiles just had a horrifying thought.

Every magician had a mentor, and every magician would one day mentor someone else. That meant that _Stiles_ would one day mentor someone else. He thought of his apartment, steadily filling with ancient books and that one tapestry depicting a banshee that Lydia found on one of her trips to Rome. He thought of the pack and his slowly developing eccentricities.

Fuck him, he was turning into Gina.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Gina asked, knocking him out of his thoughts.

“Gina,” he stage-whispered, “I’m turning into _you_.”

She snorted, “well duh. You spend at least four hours a day cooped up in my apartment, what did you think was going to happen.”

“Not this.” He muttered, shooting her a smile so she knew he was just playing.

Gina rolled her eyes good naturedly, “Just give Anita a call, yeah? Set up an appointment.”

“I will”

“Oh and Stiles?” Gina said.

“Yes?”

“You’re joining me for yoga tomorrow. 6 am sharp.”

His only response was a loud groan.

-

“Hello, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled at the women, taking a seat on the couch. Anita looked nice enough. She was, of course, a bit intimidating – It seemed that every women that Stiles interacted with was a little bit terrifying – but her short stature helped ease his nerves.

“Hello, Ms Bluestock.”

“Anita, please.”

“Anita, then.” He paused, “So how do we do this?”

“Well –“

-

“ – and _then_ they kicked me out.” Stiles finished.

It had taken five sessions to come to this. Only because Anita had to figure out how to get actual information out of him. Stiles had the unfortunate habit, apparently, of hiding his vulnerabilities by being exceptionally open about everything else. This was a ‘coping mechanism’, who knew?

Anita didn’t say anything. Nodding slowly and letting the words settle in the air.

“I mean, I don’t even care anymore, you know?” Stiles was laying upside down with his legs thrown over the back of the couch, gesturing wildly with his hands, “No, I still care. But it doesn’t hurt anymore, not like it used to.”

“The pack bonds are probably healing over.”

“Yeah,” he said, “It’s not like they were ever really there to begin with. Scott’s was always more fragile than I wanted to admit, he didn’t care as much as I did. I get that now. The rest of them… yeah, they never developed properly.”

Stiles sucked his cheeks in, “except… Derek.”

“What do you mean?” Anita asked when he stopped talking.

“He – I had a bond with him. It’s not anything like the pack bonds I have now, but it’s the only one that scared.” He looked at the floor, “Nathan’s bond is… it’s so _strong_. And I guess it kind of hurts to look back, because if Nathan’s bond broke I don’t think I’d get over it. It would break me, and trusting him not to hurt me like that – it’s _hard_. And I know that’s weird, because we just started dating a month ago, but I think I loved him for years.”

“Stiles,” Anita said, “From what you’ve told me, you two have been together longer than a month.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Regardless. Nathan's bond, all my pack bonds, they’re stronger than anything I had before. But…”

“But?”

Stiles peeked up at her through his hair, “Is it bad to wish my pack bonds with them had been stronger? To wish that it hurt as much as it should have?”

“Of course not. You almost died for them, _multiple_ times. If the bonds had been painful to break it would have been validation – proof that they cared.”

“But they didn’t hurt.” Stiles didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t crying, “They didn’t even scar.”

“Derek’s did.”

“He broke my heart.”

Anita checked the clock, an hour left.

“Right,” She said, “Let’s get into that.”

_Present, Beacon hills, Stilinski household_

“Stiles,” John said, thoroughly exasperated, “I’m _fine_.”

Stiles shot his father a look, not even bothering to comment as he supported his father’s weight all the way into the house. Everyone else trailed behind them, looking around and taking in the place Stiles grew up in. Well, except Lydia, Stiles was pretty sure she was on her phone texting someone from work.

“You’re not _fine_ ,” Stiles said finally, leaning his dad on the wall so he could unlock the front door, “ _You_ have been stabbed, so _I_ will be as overprotective as I want.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“Nope, don’t want to hear a word of it,” He plopped his dad onto the sofa, “You stay here, Peter and Tony will keep you company, I’m going to make you some chicken soup.”

Nathan had gone to the supermarket earlier to grab ingredients – that’s true love, baby.

Peter and Tony dutifully took a seats on the sofa and armchair respectively, engaging John in a conversation about the latest gossip at Stark industries. Lydia waltzed over, hearing the topic of discussion, and added her two cents.

Maria and Nathan followed him into the kitchen.

“You good, babe?” Nathan asked.

Stiles stuck up an unconvincing thumbs up in response, “Just peachy.”

“Your father is fine, Stiles.” Maria said, stepping forward and wrapping both Stiles and Nathan into a hug. “he’s _okay_.”

And Stiles broke.

He didn’t even know why. Everything was fine, just like Maria said. His dad’s surgery had gone great, not a complication in sight, and he was expected to make a full recovery. He hadn’t even freaked out this bad when he _got_ the news.

Anita liked to say he was an expert at pushing stuff down and digging up easier things to smother the pain with.

But Maria was safe, she’d keep him safe, she’d keep _his_ _dad_ safe – at least until the sheriff could stand on his own two feet again. So Stiles allowed himself to sob, letting out all the fear and worry and anger. Nathan rubbed his back, a reminder that he was here, that he’d always be here.

Stiles smiled through the tears.

-

Outside the house, camped tightly in the bushes, Derek stood and watched as Stiles – and god, he was irrevocably changed and exactly the same as Derek remembered – hobbled into the house with his father in his arms.

“Grab the groceries, would you?” Stiles said to a tall man.

“Sure thing, babe.” The man said, leaning down to peck Stiles on the lips. They did it absently, like the motion was more routine than anything. like Derek wouldn’t have given his left leg to be able to have that with Stiles.

Derek listened some more, to Stiles bickering with his dad – just like he used to, and Stiles bickering with the door as it refused to unlock – Derek huffed a laugh, just like he used to.

Lydia walked up the drive way, Derek blinked, she looked just like he thought she would. Powerful and secure and vaguely terrifying, even from this distance. She walked next to a child, and when Derek tuned into their conversation he almost regretted it, the numbers and words they were using was enough to give him a headache.

Derek switched his attention to an unknown women. She made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and, while no one else had given the bushes a second glance, she locked eyes with him immediately.

Red eyes flashed from both parties.

Red eyes…

 _Alpha_.

Stiles had arrived with another alpha. He hadn’t left the supernatural world behind, he’d just left _them_ behind. Left and found a new pack.

That hurt more than he’d like to admit.

The staring match was interrupted when a man tapped the other Alpha lightly on her shoulder. Derek heard him ask if she was alright, the women nodded, shooting Derek one last look – not bothering to hide the hostility – and walking into the house with the man at her side.

The man – who Derek belatedly recognised as Tony Stark.

What the hell had Stiles gotten up to in New York?

-

“I’ve missed your cooking.”

Stiles beamed as his dad shovelled spoonful after spoonful of soup into his mouth. The rest of the room hummed in agreement, each with their own bowl in hand.

“Any chance you’d like a job as a personal chef?” Tony asked.

Stiles laughed, “Not a chance man, I love my bakery.”

“You know,” the billionaire said contemplatively, “I don’t know how I’d never heard of your restaurant before.”

“First of all: it’s a bakery.”

Lydia coughed, and it sounded suspiciously similar to the word ‘restaurant’. Stiles magnanimously ignored her.

“And it’s a supernatural friendly bakery, if you weren’t in the know you’d never find it.”

“That’s rather cruel.” Tony pointed out, “Denying all us mundane folk your coffee.”

Stiles snorted, “You can have as much coffee as you want, it’s only five dollars.”

“Well now I can!”

Everyone laughed at Tony’s pout.

The door-bell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Stiles said, already standing up and placing his empty bowl on the coffee table. “It’s probably the rest of the pack.”

Everyone else absently nodded, turning back to their soup. Stiles made his way to the front door, shaking out his leg slightly from where it had fallen asleep because Peter insisted on sitting on it.

He honestly wasn’t surprised that the pack had come, this was entirely expected behaviour, practically a tradition. When a pack mate was in emotional turmoil they got three days max to be alone (meaning that three pack mates max were allowed interaction) before the rest of them got to join and offer cuddles.

The Romero was very tactile.

He loved it about them.

Stiles swung the door open with a smile – only to freeze as he came face to face with Derek-fucking-hale.

“Stiles.” He said.

Stiles swung the door shut.

No. No, no, nuh-uh, nope. This, _that_ , was not happening. Fuck that, fuck Derek, fuck this entire town. He couldn’t even get one day, one _fucking_ day, before his past hit him in the fucking face.

Screw this.

“Guess who was at the door.” He said to the room as he stomped back in.

“… Not the pack?” Nathan said slowly.

“Nope.” Stiles popped the ‘p’.

“Was it that alpha I saw hiding in the bush?” Maria said, casual as you please.

“Derek was hiding in the _bush_?” Stiles said, incredulous.

“He was.”

“What the fuck.” Stiles muttered.

“Language!” Tony shouted, slapping his hands over Peter’s ears, who batted his hands away with half-hearted swings.

The door-bell rang again.

Stiles sighed, motioning for Nathan and Maria to sit back down, “I’ve got this.”

They nodded, accepting his words, but both werewolves made sure to scent mark him as he passed. Stiles rolled his eyes, hiding a pleased smile by ducking his head. He rubbed his wrists under both their necks in return, eliciting another nod from Maria and a pleased growl from Nathan.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked the moment the door swung open, blinking in surprise because Derek was no longer alone – Stood next to him were Scott and Alison, both were beaming.

Derek’s nose flared and he frowned, most likely taking in the reinforced scent of Nathan and Maria – it was almost enough to make Stiles smirk.

“Stiles!” Scott said, stepping forward for a hug, then aborting the motion when Stiles stepped backwards with a perplexed expression.

“Again,” He said, “What. Do. You. Want?”

“We just wanted to see you.” Derek grumbled, and Stiles was pleased to note that he felt nothing but a small flare of irritation. Hurrah for therapy.

“Right, well. You’ve seen me.” He said, waving his hands in what amounted to sarcastic jazz-hands, “Good bye.”

“Stiles – _wait_.” Scott said, pulling out the kicked puppy look that had stopped working on Stiles by the time they turned nine.

He rolled his eyes, but kept the door open, “Literally, what is it? I’m sure you know by now, but my father has been stabbed.”

“We know,” Allison said smoothly, ever the diplomat, “we wanted to see how you both were doing.”

“ _Right_.” Stiles said slowly, “We’re fine, he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“That’s good.” She said.

Stiles nodded, “If that’s all…”

“Could we come in?” Scott asked before Stiles could slam the door back in their faces.

He sighed, “No, Scott, you can’t.”

The man pouted, _actually_ pouted, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you in my house.” _I don’t want you in my life._

“But – but you came home. You came back to the pack.” Scott mumbled.

“I came back to check up on my dad.” Stiles said firmly, “After he’s back on his feet I’ll be leaving.”

“Back to New York?” Derek spat.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, both at his town and the name of his city, “Yes. How did you know? I doubt my dad would’ve told you anything.”

Allison smiled at him, “We saw the proposal video.”

Stiles couldn’t help but blush, “Nathan was always a dramatic one.”

“Am not.” Nathan shouted from inside, loud enough that both werewolves and humans could hear. Derek's scowl visibly deepened.

“Yes you are.” Stiles shouted back, before turning back to his three ex-packmates, “Just so we’re clear. I’m not here for you, nor am I interested in re-joining the pack. And I am not staying.”

Derek growled and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re a grown man Derek, stop growling at anyone who doesn’t tell you what you want to hear.” Stiles grabbed the open door, “I’ll see you around.”

And then he shut it.

The slam of the door made him feel good.

This wasn’t the last of it, the pack would likely bother him every day until he left, but Stiles had a Maria to throw at them if they ever tried something. So he wasn’t worried.

Not in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how i'm ending chapter two :D, let me know what you think.
> 
> Also. I'm a WOC, but seeing as i'm 18 and live on the other side of the world i can't really do anything right besides use my social media to spread awareness and donate. so, Black lives matter guys. i hope that everyone who reads this agrees and does their level best to support our brothers and sisters in America who are protesting for their rights and their freedom. And to any american readers: please stay safe. Cover your faces, wear your masks and gloves. Take notes from the hong kong protesters and their gear. Don't throw bricks and keep an eye out for undercover cops. If you get arrested for protesting - don't say a thing to the cops, they are not and never have been your friends.  
> I'm so proud of my generation and my friends in america who are out protesting, good luck and stay safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo..... thoughts?


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